


A Means to an End

by Kroux



Series: Bright's Saving Grace [4]
Category: Demonheart (Visual Novel), Demonheart Hunters
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23945572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kroux/pseuds/Kroux
Summary: Now on the run, Bright and Brash, joined by Ari, are searching for safety.
Relationships: Sir Brash/Bright (Demonheart)
Series: Bright's Saving Grace [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637185
Comments: 13
Kudos: 13





	1. Defiance

"Some choices you make in life are trivial. Some carry repercussions. Some end up haunting you. Some destroy you."

***

What a beautiful day. We don't get many like it up north. That makes today special. Brash is somewhere outdoors, plotting. I suppose he has something in mind for us three. A trip, maybe? Me and the children are patiently waiting for him at our table in the dining room, just having finished breakfast. At least me and Brazen are.

"Saint, for the love of Gods, stop fidgetting like a mad little chicken," I exhale a chuckle. She twists in her chair even more violently than before. Her brother taunts her with a laugh. "I don't like waiting," she growls under her breath. "We should have just gone with papa!"

"Sweetie, I understand why you're irritated, but you know your dad! When he puts his mind to something.." I raise my hands in a manner symbolising surrender, "..there's just nothing anyone can do." She acknowledges that by letting her head fall softly against the table in frustration, exhaling a lungful. 

  
The waiting game goes on for another half-hour. I try keeping the two entertained by telling tales of how their parents travelled the country, locking evil people behind bars, protecting innocents. Most stories are made-up. I wouldn't be telling them the reality.

These stories, even if tamer than the truth, do grasp Saint's attention. She usually has quite a lot of questions I avoid answering, such as 'How did you get the scars?', or 'How did you and dad meet?', but today she seems to have figured out a new question entirely. Straightening her back, she looks me in the eye and asks, "Mommy, are you a witch?" Brazen quickly kicks her underneath the table. She retaliates in the same way, shooting him a furious frown.

 _Well, I didn't expect that._ With a confused smile, I ask, "Why would you ever think that?" Steps coming from behind the main door stop her from inquiring further. I can't say whether she lost interest in the question or the answer. Either way, there are only very few things that top Brash on her priority ladder. I know she loves me as well, but favourites are created regardless.

  
Throwing herself off the chair, nearly knocking it down in the process, she runs towards the door, "Dad! Finally!" Me and Brazen follow her lead at a much slower pace, only managing to stand up from the chairs while she's already at the door, opening it. "What took you so-"

The open door reveals the same, sunny plains surrounding our house that I witnessed from my bedroom window. A figure blocks most of the view. That figure isn't one we expected. It's not Brash. It's a different man; a stranger. Massively built and in armor, hand over the hilt of his sheathed sword. A wide, cruel sneer betrays the posture of a lawful soldier.

_He's no stranger. He's not here. He isn't alive. He's not real. Nothing is._

Saint takes a step back from the door. "W-who are you?" she asks warily, motions of her head telling of fear, her curly red hair shaking. My heart nearly stops beating. Fear doesn't take me, though. 

I leap over the table and once standing next to her, I reach out and grasp her in my arms, lifting her from the ground, protecting her. But her body evaporates from the embrace, leaving my arms empty.

"Cute little girl you have here," Garrosh quickly notes from my right, still standing inside the doorway. When I turn to him, furious, I see he's now holding Saint in his arms. She's struggling but he's too powerful. "I think I'll take her."

This scene. _How can my mind try and let anything like this happen?!_ Without a thought I rush into him, wailing a high-pitched sound, causing him to take a step back. I should have already reached him. He's not even that far. My speed should be helping. But even with it, it's as if the house itself is extending at a faster rate than I'm running, pushing the doorway ever farther. 

  
Saint evaporates again. The house, also. The plains turn dark. The sky transforms into stone. The only point of light remaining is Garrosh and his blazing blue eyes.

"Us or them," his voice turns surprisingly raspy.

I keep on running to him. His eyes are getting closer, nearly within reach.

"Us or them," another voice rasps from a different direction. An old, female voice. I know it. I'm certain of it. But I care not to look - not that I'd see anything anyway. Only a pair of dead eyes.

And I'm there, his eyes right before mine. They narrow as I hold his throat in a wrathful grip.

"Never again. Not here. Not in **my** head." 

His eyes read spite.

"Us or-"

He can't finish repeating what he wanted to say. I crush his neck effortlessly. His eyes disappear.

"You, then."

  
I dream like this often. Too often. Whatever is going on inside me, it's not anything good. Some kind of an inner conflict I can't decipher, threatening the future I dream of. The dreams tend to start quiet and peaceful, showing me that hopeful image which Rivera revealed to me unintentionally. Even though I always realise them to be only dreams, I try not to disrupt them and watch them play out, enjoying the illusion.

The more I think of it, the more I realise just how much I want to strive towards that kind of a life, especially now. Our current situation is as far from it as possible. Normalcy, common problems, ordinary life. Imagining that possibility calms me. At least it does when I'm awake. 

Whenever we stop for a rest, the dream twists horribly, showing me ghosts of my recent past. Garrosh, Rivera, the two soldiers Rose killed because of us, bandits we've encountered recently. It's affecting me more than I let show. There's no reason to worry Brash or even Ari. My dreams have always been mad, sometimes sickening. But they are getting worse. 

_I just have to suck it up, I guess. They're not real. It's all in my head. I can affect it. I can change it if I focus enough._ I'd like to believe that, at least.

  
We've been on the road for about four days now. The horses we took from the Scarcewall brigade sent to rescue Brash definitely shortened the journey, but even then it's taking too long. The biggest issue is the need to avoid frequented roads, meaning we have to resort to longer, untravelled and hence more dangerous paths through the forest. 

It didn't take very long for worgs to sniff us out after we had left the ruins. They didn't pose a real threat - only two of them appeared. Ari took the encounter the worst of us, but held the horses steady anyway while we eliminated the threat. Brash killed one of the worgs as easily as expected, but left the other one alive, intentionally giving me a learning opportunity.

"Legs first," he aimed the words at me, pushing the worg back as it tried to attack him. I suppose Brash finally realised the pointlessness of fighting everything on his own. The fact that he was trying at all was enough for me anyway. With his help, I was able to kill my first worg. Of course this wasn't the only opposition we faced during the four days.

The very next day we were ambushed by a group of bandits at night. The forest is dangerous after all, housing not only wild beasts but also desperate humans. We dealt with them just as quickly as with the worgs. Five men, dead. Scary how easy it was. It's a common occurrence to me now, seeing only aggression from strangers, witnessing and even causing death. The last naive hopes I had for encountering anyone friendly died with those bandits. _Expect the worst from strangers and you'll never be surprised._

  
Regardless of these attacks, there's still no sign of Mace. I do wonder what Rose came up with; what kind of a story did she weave to lead him off our tracks. She's quite clever and cunning, I have no doubt in her ability to create a believable story, but.. I don't know anything about Mace. I can't say how likely he is to believe anything she says. The amount of soldiers he sent for Brash speaks volumes of how important he is to him. Right now there is nothing else to do but hope we continue avoiding his unavoidable pursuit.

Together with Mace, there is also no sign of Raze. After his leaving us behind in the ruins, he attempted no contact. The amulet remains cold at all times. Thinking back at it, he obviously knew the ruins were being stormed. _I can't believe he left us like that, saying nothing. Actually, I suppose I can. Maybe he finally grew tired of my constant refusal to reciprocate affection_. No use wondering about that. If he wants to appear, he can.

What do we even do right now? The more I mull it over, the more I dislike the plan laid before us. Mors wants us to go to Shellshore. Brash doesn't know why. I don't know why. She never told me what she even wants from me. Every second I spend coming up with possible reasons only serves to show just how little Mors revealed. She's not bothering with showing up in my dreams either. Just like Raze, she's gone. 

Though I assume she'll make an appearance soon; it's likely that whatever she did in Inferno cost her a lot of strength. Not that it reduces any level of irritation I'm experiencing at the moment. Whatever happened there - she didn't prepare us for it. She didn't warn us. This constant toying with me, telling me what needs to be done without offering reasons. Even if she saved me on multiple occassions, I'd like to be, for once, included in what's involving my life.

  
After all the struggle, we finally did it. We made it out of the Golden Forest. Who knows how long it's been since we were all last outside of it. The ruins, the journey towards them, the camp, even the prison are all located within it. I'm glad for this change of scenery. Taking a few deep breaths in, I inhale the smell of autumn's burning but chilly breeze.

"There's a crossroad about half a day that way," Brash says, sitting on our shared horse right behind me, pointing north. "We can get proper directions there, but can only make about half the journey before dark."

Ari nods, riding beside us. 

A part of me is repeatedly surprised that she hasn't ridden away. She's free to do as she likes after all, I tell her so every time we camp. I assume she's glad to have some company while contemplating what her life might look like. She's still a bit reserved around us. I'm not expecting her to pour her heart out to me, and definitely not Brash, but the inner conflict she's going through can be read purely by her troubled expression.

  
None of us talk on the way. Turns out you quickly run out of topics when nothing new occurs. I'm certain me and Brash would have an easier time talking alone, but he's unusually restrained with Ari around. He's clearly not fond of displays of affection in front of others, even though our 'interaction' in Inferno went fully noticed. _Either he didn't mind it as long as nobody was watching, or he was glad to show Raze exactly where he stands._ I unintentionally grin. _Knowing him, it's likely both._

Again, I think to the dream I had earlier today. More disturbing than in the past four days. _Why Garrosh? And the other voice.. I'm certain it was Rivera_. I shudder mildly at the thought of those two. Brash must have felt it; his arm brings me a bit closer as he reassures me quietly. I can even hear the grin on his face. "We'll camp soon, I can warm you up as much as you need then." 

I chuckle and think, _'Idiot,_ ' but am glad for his reassurance. With whatever's happening inside my head, but also around us in general, Brash's company is the only thing that's keeping me sane and in check. All four nights we camped, he reserved some time to train me, making me feel inept seeing as he always ended up besting me. Just like back at the camp. 

Unlike then, though, he wasn't holding himself away anymore. Whenever Ari wasn't watching us, we somehow managed to mysteriously disappear from the training spot, not to be seen again until much later. So.. training is a bit tricky, but I'm making progress. Brash could hardly ever find a moment of weakness in my guard to throw me to the ground. We're not quite equals in combat, and I know I should never expect that, but at least I can keep up.

  
Riding towards our current goal, the crossroad, we pass a couple of abandoned farm houses. Work of local bandits to be sure. Whichever town or village these houses belonged under, their protection would never have reached this far out. As unfortunate as the fate of these farmers is, it clearly couldn't be helped. They must have believed people would leave them alone, since they fed the entire area. They underestimated people's selfishness and greed. The same way I did.

Realising just how incredibly naive I was only a month ago.. _Gods, how did I ever survive, believing in the good intentions of others?_ I guess I didn't really survive. I paid with my life over and over. Let's hope I've learnt my lesson.

  
A few hours, empty buildings and one demolished shrine later, darkness looms. We're lucky enough to find an old watchtower where we can lay our heads down for the night. Even the horses can make it in - a giant crevice exposes one entire wall of the tower. They'll be safe from wind tonight.

Usually we simply sleep on the ground, leaves serving as bedding. This time we've got the luxury of old straw. Prickly if you lie down on it the wrong way, but soft if you stomp it down a few times. Gathering some excess straw, a few sticks and couple of thick logs, we're able to start a sturdy campfire safely distant from our flammable beds.

Ari never sleeps too far from us. Cowering underneath the cloak she took from the ruins before leaving, she's lying down, intercepting the fire's warmth. Brash and I sleep together on a pile of straw on the other side of the campfire. Warmth is never an issue for us, obviously. As he's lying on his back, I'm always right on top of him, hands tucked inbetween us to keep them warm.

As unsafe as we might look, me and Ari sleep incredibly lightly. She wakes up at nearly any sound at all - me and Brash discovered this the hard way - and so do I, although not nearly as perceptive as she is. If anyone takes a step close to the tower, she'll be sure to sound a piercing scream of an alarm. That's exactly how we awoke to the bandits a few days ago.

Kissing me good night, Brash puts an arm around my back, keeping the other free in case he needs to reach for his sword. Even though I know exactly what awaits me in sleep, like every night, falling asleep isn't challenging. Brash's heartbeat lulls me into slumber.

  
Laugh.

I'm alone on an infinitely-stretching golden field of barley. My hand grazes each stem in its reach. _Prickly._

Laugh. Laugh. Laugh.

Maybe I'm not alone after all.

I quickly turn my entire body around. The field of barley is no more. Instead I now stand on a bare plain, sun beaming down on both me and the summery green grass. A house stands in front of me. _I'm back. Again._ Fully realising it's a dream, the same dream I keep having, I embrace it and let myself get lost in the illusion.

The laughs materialise in the form of two children running towards me. Though they were nowhere to be seen only a moment ago, their bodies form as if from thin air. And they're with me, each holding one of my legs, yearning for attention.

"Found you!" the little girl says. I believe I named her Saint. I can't say why. From all I remember, she's a little devil in sheep's clothing. Her head lifts up. "Mommy, you made it too easy. Don't you know how to play hide-and-seek?"

I make a dull face, "Well, no! You need to teach me!"

Her and the boy look at each other, confused. She turns to me again, oddly serious about the subject. "But.. didn't you teach the lady how to hide? She's so good, we can never find her!"

I tense. _Lady? What lady? Neither of them have ever brought up anyone beside us four._ "Who are you talking about?"

Saint's face lights up as they both back off from my legs. Her finger flies up, excitedly pointing behind me. "There! There she is! She's back!" Vigilant, but definitely infuriated by the constant lack of peace, I move around swiftly to discover the identity of the new intruder.

  
Not a new intruder, at least. A familiar intruder. I grimace and my hands immediately fly towards my sides. _So much for the dream, then. Back to business. Whatever it may be this time._

"What took so long?" I ask the all-too-familiar woman standing only several feet distant from me, her gray hair moves around with the tame breeze. Her face looks the same as I remember, but she's wearing something different; not her usual red robe. A thin dress, similar to the one Kanaz wore, hugs her body. 

"Earlier appearance was impossible. Not for my lack of attempts," she finally speaks, revealing a solemn voice. A concerned look joins it quickly. I frown at her reaction. _Something is wrong, then._

Curiously enough, the two children are still present. Normally whenever the dream gets interrupted, they vanish together with the surroundings. I suppose Mors doesn't count as an intruder to my mind. Anyway, they don't say anything, only eye Mors curiously, as though she's the most interesting thing they've ever seen. She doesn't pay the figments of my imagination any mind, focusing on me only.

"What delayed you, then?"

"Kanaz pressed with her attempts to sever our connection. But even she may not do such a thing. No interference in affairs of other hells allowed. Same as I cannot sever her connection with her favourite, she cannot sever ours."

I blink, "Your.. favourite?" and snicker, "What did I do to deserve **such a title**?"

Her eyes narrow for a moment, noting the sarcasm in my voice. Thoughts flash behind her burning, golden irises. She studies me for quite a while. Pupils thinning and expanding as her eyes dig into mine with a protruding look. She comes to a conclusion. 

  
"You doubt my intentions with you."

"I had some time for myself and spent it thinking about all kinds of things," I begin theatrically but transform my mannerisms into a more serious look, "I realised just how little I know. How little you tell me. And I don't really like it."

"For your own sake."

I chuckle, "People and their 'I know what's good for you'. I can tolerate it with Brash, seeing as it comes from a good place with him, but you?" I give her a heavy, robust look, "You, I don't know enough about. Not enough to honestly trust you with my life."

An empty pause. For the first time since her arrival, she acknowledges the children. Staring at them, she flinches, grimacing in either disgust or utter confusion. This doesn't last long. 

"What do you wish to know, then?" she asks.

"Everything."

She fixes me a taunting glare, "You would die of old age before we covered even a tenth of all the knowledge within my grasp." 

"Hilarious," I respond, clearly not interested in knowing everything in a literal sense. "I'll help you focus your effort, then. What do you really want from me?" The question obviously troubles her. Composed again, she carefully considers her answer, but ultimately disappoints me with the result. "I cannot tell you."

I laugh, "Oh, really? And why is that? Did you, I don't know, suddenly forget?"

She pauses, "I cannot tell you, because the means of us achieving what must be done have not yet been revealed to me." I stare at her dumbfounded. _What the fuck does that even mean?_ Before I can ask, she continues, "I understand your disapproval, but you and I share the burden of uncertainty. Yet there are things that may interest you still. Things I can tell you of."

"What do you speak of?" I ask, intrigued but still reserved.

"The words Kanaz mentioned. She spoke them purposely. Every word from her is always perfectly measured and meant to strike an intended chord. She was aware of your lack of knowledge. She used it in hopes of sowing discord," Mors smirks mildly, "Kanaz loves her games."

 _Games?_ Mors is right, though. I am interested in many things from that specific encounter. Most of all.. "What's an 'Ochroma'? Why did she call me that? Is it just another word for a pale demonheart?" I ask, mentioning the answer I find to be most likely.

She motions a 'no' with soft head movements. "Ochroma. A demonheart of all strains. A vortex of souls. The very thing that saved you from Oblivion. Sorin could not curse you the same way he did me. You are not his to curse. Not his creation. Not **only** his."  
  


_Huh._

_Rrrrright._

  
In my bafflement, I only offer a "What?" as a response. Whatever words Mors just uttered, they're taking quite a while to sink in. "Did you just say 'all strains'? I thought you can only be a certain type, determined upon turning, with future hearts or flesh only strengthening you," I pour out the questions, "And while I'm at it, how come I'm a pale, then? Why not the other types?"

Her eyes narrow, "It is much too complicated to explain in short."

"Then take all the time you need," I return to a somewhat mocking tone unintentionally.

"We have no more time."

"Why?"

She motions to where the children stand. I look to them. Stood, not stand. They're gone, so is the house. The second I notice this change, even Mors disappears. The grass, previously summery green, turns dark right beneath my feet. 

  
There is no escape.

  
"Your choice," comes from right in front of me, but no source to the voice is visible. Or, sources. The sentence is told by multiple people. Men. 

Eyes flare up. Five pairs surround me. Strangers, but they are known to me. The bandits we slayed. I exhale through gritted teeth, "Not you again."

"Us or them," the repeat the dreaded sentence I'm beginning to despise.

Their eyes near.

 _Oh I don't have patience for you._ Having practised quite a lot with the boundaries of my abilities in dreams, I conjure a longsword and control it to cut their heads off. Their eyes shut. Their bodies fall. The heads follow one by one.

  
Chilly breeze. Cold fingers.

I wake up to a sound of dripping water over somewhat boarded-up windows. I lift my head and look to the right. Brash is next to me. I move a lot in my sleep because of the mad dreams, so our changed position isn't anything uncommon. I look to my left. The fire is still alive, obviously tended to. Ari is gone.

The first logical thought would be 'she finally decided to run off', but this isn't the first time she's done this. Still, I better go check on her. She usually doesn't stray too far on her morning routine walk, only far enough to observe the fauna and flora.

I carefully stand up, trying not to wake Brash before it's necessary. Then again, he sleeps like a log; I'd have to shake him to wake his butt. Just to make sure nothing is waiting in the shadows, I walk through the few rooms of the broken tower. Both horses are present, awake. The two other rooms are empty. Access to our sleeping area is restricted, only allowed through one door. _He'll be okay. I won't be gone long._

I can already imagine his complaining about our group splitting. 'You're both morons! What if someone took you both one by one in the forest and I slept through it. How would I ever find you?!', he would say. Or **will** say if I don't move quickly. 

I leave the tower, quietly closing the half-broken front door.

***

"There you are," I call out to Ari. She's plucking herbs growing through broken rocks. "You shouldn't stray so far. A worg could easily take you and we wouldn't know of it."

She continues her foraging, filling a pocket of her cloak. "I know, I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist! I saw the summer savory earlier on our path, and knew there'd be more around. It will make any food delicious!" she explains cheerily.

I'm glad to see her regaining a semblance of comfort and ease. She somehow reminds me a lot of myself. Me from Feline. I do hope she isn't as miserable on the inside as I was, but she at least has a reason for it. Plenty of them. Lover dead, home destroyed, forced to run off with people who have every right to despise her. I like to think she knows we mean her no harm, seeing as we've given her no reason to believe otherwise.

"I know what it's for. I also know that in high doses it may be used as an aphrodisiac," I grin at her as she vigorously turns around, completely wide-eyed at my words. "Did you have something interesting in mind?"

She shakes her head, "I-I wasn't aware! I swear!" Her hands fly up to cover her red cheeks. I chuckle as she continues, "I only knew it to be a seasoning, occasionally used to treat bee stings. I-I thought.. I thought it would be useful."

As amusing as her reaction is, I'm suddenly getting a familiar feeling from this situation. Only.. reversed. Rose in my position, and I in Ari's. Telling me to not let anyone see my weakness, lest they abuse it. Ari is in an even worse state than I was. No wonder Rivera had such an easy time exploiting her.

  
"It's alright, I was only joking," I sigh. "Let's go back to the tower. Best we leave soon."

Her hands fall down from her face, revealing no more embarrassement, but a look of curiosity laced with doubt. "Where are we going, anyway? You.. you never told me."

"Shellshore," I respond.

"But why?"

I pause. _How am I supposed to know that?_ With a deep-set frown, I step away from Ari and turn towards the tower, not yet taking steps. "It doesn't matter."

She thinks for a second. "You don't know, do you." It's not a question. It's an announcement. She must have realised our lack of a plan. Can't say I'm surprised. Took **me** long enough to realise it. Disregarding her last words, I simply say, "We'll wait in the tower. Don't take too long," before leaving towards our temporary encampment. She doesn't reply. I can hear more herbs being plucked.

Gods. I wish she hadn't said that. 'You don't know'. Yeah, I don't. Mors said she doesn't, either. But how is that even believable? Are the two other voices telling her what to do? If not them, who is? She didn't seem too keen on cooperating with Kanaz. I doubt she's in a pact with anyone demonic, if with anyone at all. But how sure can I be really?

***

The most unfortunate has happened. Brash is sitting by the fire, awake. Seeing me come through the door, he immediately starts, "You two had a nice morning fuck?" but I can discern seriousness from jests. I sit on the straw next to him, throwing my legs to the sides, resting my feet. "You bet," I retort in a matter-of-fact tone before kissing him for the first time that day.

"Did you sleep alright? The straw felt harsh," I ask, placing my head down onto his shoulder.

"Beats sleeping on a rock. Not by much, but still," he takes my hand into his, running his fingers over my palm in a circular motion. "Where's the witch?"

"Gathering herbs. She seems more cheerful than yesterday. Maybe because we've finally put the Golden Forest behind us? I don't know." 

He doesn't respond, but that's alright. This is the most peaceful time we've had since our stay in Inferno. Warm, crackling fire, sheltered by a - mostly falling apart - building, the only other presense being the horses nextdoor, announcing themselves by occasional neighing.

  
I can feel his head sink a tad, followed by a soft exhale. I turn my head to look at him and ask, "Something on your mind?" His lips answer in the form of a woeful curve. I lift my head from his shoulder and move slightly in front of him so I can better watch for a reaction. "What is it, Brash?"

"It's.." he begins, clearly finding it difficult to continue, "It's Mace. The rescue he mounted."

 _Ah.._ Just like Ari, Brash carries his own demons from the ruins. Not only what Rivera had left him with, but also the encounter with Rose and Jarlan. An entire brigade sent from Scarcewall on Mace's orders, intending to rescue Brash. Nearly a third of the entire Scarcewall army. That amount is beyond unimaginable. Combining that with the fact that they returned empty-handed...

"He put the entire city in so much fucking danger. What if someone in Vaytos knew? What if they attacked?" his voice despairs while his expression maddens. "Bale's brigade is the biggest one of the three. Fuck!"

"Hey!" I firmly set my hands on his shoulders, turning him a little bit to force him face to face with me. "None of that happened!" I insist. "Even if the entirety of Vaytos knew, Scarcewall would hold for the few days the brigade was missing. You know that. You told me yourself how well prepared the city is. No invasion could take it so quickly." I lean in forward. "Don't tell me you're doubting Mace already! Didn't take long, huh?" I taunt him to snap him out of it.

It works, thank Gods. Rolling his eyes he groans, "..You're right. Forget it, I'm being a fucking idiot." His spirit returns. Snickering at whatever thoughts he's having, he adds, "Not even Adrianne and her army of righteous, brain-washed, cockless fucking 'soldiers' couldn't take us." He ridicules the kingdom's current ruler, princess Adrianne, and her notoriously known, devout army. 

I notice him saying 'us', still referring to Scarcewall and himself as one. A part of me worries that he might never be able to let go of his past, perhaps even forgive himself for betraying Mace's trust, which is clearly the way he feels. But the larger part of me understands why he said it.

I smile, "Was this bothering you for long?"

"..Kind of."

"Why not say anything earlier? You know, this might come as a surprise, but I **actually enjoy** talking to you," I pucker my face up in a coy manner.

He grins at my expression, "Didn't want to bother you with my bullshit, sweetie."

"Idiot. You better bother me about everything."

"I'll.. try. No promises."  
  


Retreating back to my previous position on his shoulder, we silently watch the dying fire. _It's not fair of me, demanding he says whatever is plaguing his mind, when I still haven't said anything about my dreams._

Usually, that wouldn't be an issue. It's not like I'd tell him whatever stupidity I happen to dream of, but this time.. The reappearing people we kill together, or ones I see dead because of me.. It's having a bad effect on me. Until I can figure out what thought my mind is trying to convey, there is no ridding myself of it.

  
The fire is completely out by the time Ari returns. Her pockets are overflowing with all kinds of herbs and weeds. What a godsdamned squirrel, hoarding herbs like a maniac. Can't blame her - from what I can tell, she picked all kinds of useful plants. And I can't see anything poisonous. At least there's that.

She sits down in front of us, on the other side of the dead campfire. It's still slightly warm, but no longer threatens us with flames. Examining it, she thinks for a while and suddenly bursts, "We should dye your hair with charcoal!"

Taken aback by her enthusiasm, I stare before finally asking, "Why exactly?"

"Well.. your hair is.. **incredibly** red. I've never seen it in such intensity! And.. we will be passing by people now, since the cover of woods is out of question. When someone sees you, they'll be sure to remember you."

 _What the hells, how did she come to that conclusion? But.. Damn. Fuck._ I hadn't thought of it before she mentioned it. I glance at Brash, who seems concerned now that Ari laid down the law, bringing quite a number of issues up. Returning my attention to her, I hesistantly nod.

She gleams at my agreement but still stops just for a moment. "We.. We should dye **your** hair, too," she looks at Brash. At first he doesn't realise she's addressing him, so he doesn't lift his head from the fire. It quickly hits him.

"Hah! Like I'd let some foreigner whore fuck up my hair!"

"But-"

"Forget it! There's not enough fucking charcoal for the both of us anyway," he points to the fire. Only a small portion remains, even though the logs we supplied it with were plentiful. Unfortunately, my hair is quite long, and so is his. The amount we've got wouldn't be enough for both of us. "Just do hers. And if you put the hot coal anywhere near her face..." he shoots her down with a wrathful grimace. 

I chuckle, seeing he doesn't know how you'd use charcoal as a hairdye. I guess he wouldn't know. _Adorable._ Knowing how terrified Ari must be by that threat, I don't intervene, curious to see how she means to calm him down.

She flinches, "No! Th-that's not how it works! It's incredibly safe! A mixture of the charcoal and water creates-"

Sadly, Brash likely realised I'm not dumping my hair into hot charcoal. A number of issues would arise. Such as.. Well.. I don't know, the fact that my hair would burn off? Cutting her off, he growls, "Whatever, just do it." 

***

Hours later, we progress in our journey. The charcoal worked and coloured my hair black, but also left it smelling like burning. We even had to switch positions riding the horse so Brash could breathe at all. Sitting behind him now, I rely on my ability of holding on to not fall off.

We're finally standing at the crossroad. A huge pole is ran deep into the soil right at the point where the road splits into four paths, ours included. Four signs stick out of the pole. 'Scarcewall/Crows' in our direction, to the south. 'Feline/Ravage' in the opposite direction of where we're headed, to the west - precisely west-northwest. 'Suntown/Darkholme' to the north. 'Shellshore/Travail' to the east. That's where we must go.

'Must'. 'Must go'. I don't appreciate the way it sounds. And seeing the sign to Feline.. My heart aches. No wonder Brash still feels like a part of Scarcewall. The hurt of knowing you can never come back home is too much to accept at once. But still, I'm...

"It'll take nearly a fucking month this way," he refers to the road and the horses, " **if** we're lucky with the weather. We've got to get ourselves a ship from Darkholme if we want to get there faster, but.. that's more dangerous."

Ari studies the signs longingly. A dejected look looms on her face as she glances to the direction of Feline and Ravage. She stops the staring and decidedly turns her horse east. We begin heading towards Shellshore-

"No, wait," I reach for the reins and pull on them to stop our progress. The horse doesn't like that and lets me know by violent neighing.

"What?" Brash asks.

What indeed. What the fuck am I doing? Not just right now, but.. in general. 

I take the reins again - Brash holds them steady this time. I pull on his arm instead, moving the reins with it. Pulling them.. west. Turning back.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he growls, jerking his arm out of my grasp, but not turning the horse back east just yet. He waits for my reasons for acting like a lunatic.

  
"Ravage. We go there."

"Why the fuck would we do that? You **can** read the signs, right? It's the opposite fucking direction."

"I know that. We're taking the scenic route to Shellshore."

A number of emotions overcome Ari's expression. She doesn't join the argument, but considers what we're saying all the same. _Is going to Ravage what interested her? Huh. I wonder-_

"Oh, yeah, the scenic route," he all but laughs, "Sweetie, that will prolong our journey nearly twice, and for no reason other than, what, looking at the pretty flowers, landscape and scenery?"

I roll my eyes at his mockery, not that he can see. His reasons for it aren't **completely** incomprehensible. A soldier at heart, still. Mors gave him an order and he's, for **some** reason, compelled to follow it. I do wonder what she told him exactly. I didn't think to ask before. 

"No, not the fucking scenery, honey," I mock him right back, "I must go to Ravage first. Visit an old friend."

His head turns slightly. He understands my meaning now. Doesn't mean he likes it. "..You do understand that means going through-"

"Yes. We'll be fine. Just trust me."

He pauses, "Fucking idiot. Okay, fine. If that's what you want," he turns the horse west completely. Ari follows, wary of us. As wary as she was the moment we left the ruins. She expressed her interest in knowing our plan earlier. Now that I'm changing it for a reason she doesn't understand, it doesn't come as a surprise she dislikes it. What **is** surprising is that she still isn't demanding an answer and quietly follows. We need to work on that.  
  


We pass the pole again. 

_Feline._

If Mors wants me to go to Shellshore, she'll have to wait. First, I have business of my own to finish. I'm not going to willingly act a puppet, going from one place to another on someone's whim, when they give no reason at all. She'll have to give me more than just 'I don't know yet', and 'I can't tell you'.

It's no longer enough.  
  



	2. Homesick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return to Feline.

Each and every day the breeze grows cooler. It isn't the time for winter to come yet. That should be at least two more months away. Still.. There is this coolness about the air.

The air... 

It bears a powerful smell. A rancid stench. The stench of death I last sensed in the ruins comes close to it. Nearly identical, actually. The closer we ride our horses to Feline, the stronger it becomes. Its calling clearer, its message still a secret.

"Is there some fucked up festival you kittens celebrate that I should know about?" Brash asks, nose crinkled as a reaction to the smell. "Like burning rotting corpses throughout the countryside?"

"Uhm," I give it a quick think, arms thrown around Brash's stomach as the horse we ride trots forward. I feel like I'm going to fall off if I relax even for a moment. "Somehow I doubt that? I can't say what this-" I make a disgusted noise, "-horrible smell may be a result of. Perhaps.. fertilisation of fields?"

It doesn't seem too unlikely for a theory; we are riding right beside fields of wheat and other grain-like harvestables I don't recognise. He laughs lowly, "Fertilising mid-autumn. Yeah, no." There's something grim about his voice. Filled with suspicions and thoughts, no doubt. Not confident enough in them to share with the rest of us.

A couple of days has passed since the change in our direction. The closer we come to the town, the more nervous we all grow; Brash and I especially. He was, and still is, against the idea of us even passing through Feline, let alone stopping in it. I dared not to think of my home before - too many unknowns, too many uncertainties. Now that we're so close, my family and home is the only thing on my mind. 

  
"This was such a dumb decision," Brash deplored the change in our course right after I shared my desire to remain in the town for a moment - if only for a day, maybe even less - rather than simply pass through it. "We're going to get so fucked if either of us gets recognised. Do you understand that?"

"It really is not a good idea. It's actually a horribly dangerous idea," Ari warned immediately after Brash. "But I see this means quite a deal to you. Being separated from your roots for so very long.." she paused, a million thoughts flashing in her eyes, "it drains mind and body, weakens the spirit." 

I was thankful for her words, even if they obviously stemmed from her own problems rather than mine. 

Brash turned to Ari, "Well, nobody gives a shit about you around here, unlike us. Not yet, anyway." Pointing to her choice of accessories with demonic symbols, he looked her over, "People actually care about following Adrianne's no-witches-demons-or-otherwise policy here. Someone sees you wearing that and.." he made a quick 'tsk'-like sound, immitating what I thought to be a guillotine. "Straight to Suntown with Feline's own oh-so-very-righteous 'Lord' Second's blessing." 

Inconcealable mockery rained through that remark. Lord Second, after all, agreed to release me from prison, knowing full-well my death was imminent. Of course, that was only after Mark convinced him to do so. Even though I understand why they did it, even though I would have done it willingly if told, I don't think I can **not** hold at the very least a tiny grudge. 

Either way, Ari agreed with Brash's suggestion to rid herself of the ornaments betraying her nature. As we presently near Feline, she still has them in possession. There was no reason to get rid of them just yet - she **did** take the most jarring necklaces off - but they remain in her pockets, waiting to incriminate her if searched. I do feel sorry for her. She was so far the collateral damage to everything bad that happened.

  
A groan bellows through Brash's body. It's so powerful my hands can sense it. "I don't even know why I listened to you. Fuck." His irritation is accompanied by the horse's endless efforts to get us off him. Well, me, at least. I still have no clue how to sit and ride it properly. Or perhaps it just dislikes me?

Either way, Brash isn't stopping or changing our direction. We're still on the open path leading to my hometown. It cannot be far now. "Why not turn around, then? I could hardly stop you."

"Why?" he repeats my question, "You wanted to go, so we're going. Or did you change your mind? Gained some godsdamned sense?"

I snort, "Nope," and think of a way to tease him. "So, if I wanted to go to Suntown, would you be alright with that as well?"

"Of course **not** , good fucking Gods. I know you're not stupid enough to even think about that."

"Well, how is going to Feline any better? People might recognise me, even with the scar and the hair. Why doesn't that bother you?"

"Of course it fucking bothers me," he finally raises his voice, enough for Ari to hear through all the noises our horses make. "But I'd rather be around to make sure you don't do anything stupid. Better than you running off alone with your homesickness, getting captured again, this time shipped to Suntown." His tone grows deep, "How could I keep you safe then? I could never get to you in time."

I can't help but smile. "Aww, that's so adorable."

His entire body responds with a slight shudder. "Huh? What?" he asks as if his hearing is failing him, disbelief edged in the erratic movements of his head.

"I said," I happily repeat, "that your caring about me is adorable." Brash takes a deep, annoyed breath and, leaning his head back only an inch, moves it side to side, regretting saying anything. I chuckle and don't press the subject any more. 

Over the time we spent together I've learnt that he isn't the most.. how to put it.. lovey-dovey kind of a person. We keep each other safe - he does so more often than me at the moment - and that's what matters. He needs not constantly remind me of his feelings with words. His actions always did speak louder anyway.

***

Brash swiftly gets off the horse. So does Ari. I follow with a clumsy jump down. Our horse neighs the moment I'm off. _Godsdamnit. It really doesn't like me, huh?_

"Ari, you have to go in," I say, motioning to the stable master's hut right on the outskirts of Feline. We can't take our horses into the city - only merchants and guards may do so, or merely passing-through travellers. Since we're neither, we must find the horses a place to stay for the time being.

"M-me?!" she recoils, horrified, "Why me? Wh-why not Brash?"

"Because I'd rather not risk him being recognised. After all, he stood in front of the entire town during Feline's first and only knighting." I look to him. He's grinning like an idiot, no doubt reliving the event in his mind. He offered a number of compliments for what I did then, apparently finding it all deeply amusing.

My look returns to Ari. "And it obviously can't be **me**. The hair can hardly hide my identity face to face with someone who knew me since I was a little girl." As helpful as the hair dye is, hiding the redness anyone could remember, it won't be much use in Feline. I should look for a different means of concealing.

The idea of having to talk to the stable master seems to have mortified Ari. She's rubbing her hands together, as if she were cold, but it's still the afternoon, sun shining fiercely. Head hung low, staring at the ground wide-eyed, she nods and begins taking short steps towards the hut.

  
_Okay, that's not going to work._

  
I reach to Ari with the intention of stopping her, but Brash reaches her first. Hand placed over her shoulder, she stops and looks at him. "I'll go with you," Brash says, not meeting her eyes. "You look scared enough to piss yourself the moment you walk in."

"B-but-" she stutters. I continue instead of her. "What if he recognises you?"

He scoffs at the suggestion, "I decided that it doesn't fucking matter. I bet I can convince him to keep his mouth shut," he presses on his clenched fist, cracking knuckles.

I grimace and beseech him, "Try not to kill him, okay? He's a good person not deserving of a pointless death."

He lets go of Ari's shoulder and turns to me. "I believe we already had this sort of a talk before. About that pussy friend of yours. Caspar."

"Jasper. And, yes, I recall the hunt pretty vividly," I shoot him a sly smirk. "You argued that life isn't fair-"

"Because it isn't," he insists, interrupting me.

"Then we have to **make it** fair," I scowl. "Don't kill him. Just.. 'nudge' him towards the right decision, if need be." 

He gives my words a moment to sink in and snickers. "Kitten, I wasn't going to kill him. Who do you take me for, huh?" he teases. My face twists into an annoyed grimace, "Alright, I must have mistaken you for another handsome bastard. How rude of me!"

  
Leaving me with a lingering touch of his hand along jaw neck, they disappear into the hut and I'm left with the duty of guarding the horses until their temporary stay is secured. Ari's horse, a brown-white mare which she named 'Claud', is tolerant and good-natured. Our horse, a nameless black stallion, is the complete opposite. He responds to Brash well enough, but when he sees me around, he sounds a cacophony of furious sounds.

The reins jerk in my hand. The stallion is making Claud uneasy with his movements. I try to hold the reins as firmly as possible.

"What's your problem with me?" I question the horse outloud. "What have I done to you to warrant this hate?" The horse, of course, doesn't answer, but does cease the powerful tugging. For the moment, at least. Tilting his head, the stallion investigates me with his black, abyss-like eyes.

 _ **"** First the birds, now the horses.. **"**_ A foreign voice rings through my head, causing me to drop the reins for a second. I immediately grab them again. _ **"** My, my, you must have gone insane! A true descent into madness._ **"**

 _What the fuck?! How are you-_ I quickly realise it isn't the horse speaking. _Right. Raze._

 _ **"** Ah, yes, the inconvenience dares speak. Do forgive me for the intrusion."_ His painfully obvious sarcasm overtakes my mind, echoing through the ears.

_Took you long enough to contact me. Any problems?_

_**"** Oh the very opposite! I would say I escaped from the problem before it became a true nuisance. **"**_

_Should I take that as an insult?_ I snap at Raze hard enough that I feel my arms flail even in the semi-unconsciousness.

He laughs, _**"** Very perceptive, **"**_ and his tone promptly loses all amusement. _**"** Your choice was clear. I was a fool to believe your primitive mind could be changed, made to see things as they truly are. **"**_

_Hells, if you're speaking to me only so I must endure this belittling-_

_**"** No. This is where our relationship, whatever its kind, ends. I won't let anyone manipulate me, let alone you. You, who has decimated all-.. **"**_ He stops himself from completing the thought. A new one occurs. _ **"** Don't expect any help from me, even if I am still forced to listen to you until I find a way to unbind our souls from the amulets. **"**_

_Wait, you're leaving? Just like that? All because I chose someone else?_

No response arrives for a while. I begin to think he left, but he breaks the silence one last time. _**"** The irony of you saying 'wait' and simultaneously reminding me of why it is I'm leaving will never cease to amaze me. **"**_

The amulet hushes the warmth, skin no longer burning. He's gone again. _Why do men - or their equivalents from different planes - have to be so fucking territorial?_ As if me and Raze couldn't simply be friends. _Ugh!_ But if this is how he feels, I can't change it. Not in a way I'd ever agree to, at least.

  
I exit the trance just in time to notice Ari and Brash shutting the stable master's hut door. I squint, _..Why is Ari clutching Brash's arm so tightly?_ The question remains even after Brash pushes her off him the moment they are out of the hut windows' view.

"Bright!" she begins cheerfully, not addressing my cautious expression. "You won't believe it!" Brash doesn't share even an ounce of her high spirits - hands pushed into his sides, he appears ready to smash someone's face in.

"What exactly is so unbelievable?" I ask, eager for the revelation.

Ari rummages her hands through her pockets and, once they have grasped the objects of their desire, she pulls the hands out and holds her open palms in front of me. A few gold coins rest in them. 

"I.. I noticed the way he was looking at us and remembered the newly-weds traditions that are common in Ravage! I thought.. maybe they're applied here as well? S-so.." she tumbles over her words, too excited to speak clearly. "I told him me and Brash just married! And he gave us a discount!" Her smile stretches so wide I doubt I've ever seen her this merry. "I saved us some gold!"

I'm honestly speechless. How can something as simple as that get her so joyous? Good Gods. What the fuck. Not knowing how else to react, I start laughing at the oddness of the story. Even though that doesn't seem to be the reaction she expected, she's glad anyway and, handing me the leftover gold, joins in the laughter. 

Brash looks even more hopeless and dejected than before. His hands leave the sides and instead move to cover his face as he growls into them, "Travelling with two women. Good fucking Gods have mercy on me, please." I step closer to him and, moving my hand over his shoulder, I laugh even harder.

***

Two, possibly three hours have passed. The Sun has finally set enough for us to be able to enter under dim light. It **was** possible to enter Feline earlier, but I'd rather not leave anything to chance. I doubt just anyone would forget the face of a 'cold-blooded killer vile enough to be the first Feline's execution in decades'. Our newly aquired cloaks will hopefully help with concealing my identity, as well as Brash's.

While we waited on the outskirts, a merchant exitted the city with his cart full of stock. He was all too happy to take our gold for a pair of ragged cloaks at an increased price. 'A limited time offer', he called it. Not that we had space to argue - as willing to beat him up as Brash looked, he knew that would attract unneccessary attention. 

Together with the cloaks, something else in his stock grasped my attention. A pack of festival masks - jesters, witches, warriors, princesses, you name it. He had them all. _The sparrow festival. It must have just ended._ Haunted by reminders of the easier life I used to lead, I stepped away from the merchant and waited until the two finished whatever business they had with him. Ari apparently managed to sell all her demonic accessories, and even though they earned her a lot of gold, the man spared no hateful looks before finally departing.

There never was any opportunity of buying equipment from the few travelling merchants we encountered on the road. Not many were willing enough to venture so far into the forest, so the few that did barely offered anything useful. But we managed to sell them our hunted meat, the prey's skin and also some equipment from the bandits we faced.

  
 _Now, onto the entrance part._ We desperately need to avoid all patrols. They question anyone whose identity they cannot discern. From what I recall, the patrols aren't very frequent, since our town never really was that criminally active. Though, who knows what happened after my nearly half a year long 'vacation'. 

"Be ready. I'll scout ahead and tell you if it's safe," I say, all of us pressed into a deep doorway of a clearly abandoned house. The slums have a number of those. You'd never see this in the Noble's district. Only now the divide between parts of our town becomes painfully obvious to me.

"Fuck no, we have to go together," Brash counters, "Someone catches you and the next thing you know, an alarm is raised. 'Oh look, it's the girl that's supposed to be fucking dead.'"

"Brash, I said I'll 'scout' ahead. Not try to go face to face with the guards."

"What difference does that-"

"The difference," I interrupt him, "is that even if they see me, I'll be gone from their sight before they know it. Which is **why** we can't go together. You're too.." I try to express my thought process gently, "..heavy. Robust."

"And your ass is fatter than before, too, you bitch."

"I meant your armor, you fucking moron! It's too loud!" I snap back.

"Well," he loses the attitude, "I meant what I said in a good way," he snickers as he gives my behind a squeeze, even with Ari right next to us. I guess he's slowly getting used to her. Either way, she's distraught by the fact that we're not yet moving towards our destination.

I narrow my eyes, glaring at Brash. "Is that supposed to be an apology?"

He grins, "I'll apologise when we're alone," and drags me in right up against his chest, moving his-

"U-uhm!" Ari clears her throat, "Can you please do this later? When we're.. not so exposed?"

I chuckle and pull away, sobered up by Ari's urging. Brash looks about as irritated by the interruption as one would expect, but I know he understands this isn't the right place, or the right time. "We're continuing our little chat later, kitty girl," he says before I get going, aiming to lead the two safely through the streets of the slums.

  
A number of lampposts, still scarce enough to not cause worry, light important areas throughout the district. I carefully move first, utilising my speed to not be seen, if anyone happened to be looking in my direction. Once I deem the area safe, the two follow slowly. It's imperial we don't get caught at this time of the day. The guards are especially suspicious of anyone they do not recognise at night.

We've progressed through the majority of the district unnoticed, though.. There is quite the number of guards. The patrols are more frequent and considerably more sizeable - nearly triple the usual amount of soldiers per patrol. There's never been this number of guards in the slums. I would have expected this in the Noble's district, if anywhere.

Quickly stopping in the shadows of a tight alleyway, we wait for another patrol to pass. Six pairs of feet.

"What the fuck is wrong with your village? Didn't know you kittens were so military for how shit your soldiers are," Brash whispers a snide comment. I award him with a mild shove.

"Town. And.. this isn't- or, wasn't, a common occurrence. I don't like it. Maybe.." my thoughts grow grim, "Maybe some of the merchants recognised us?"

"Doubt that. I'd see the fear in their eyes," he responds, self-assured.

The soldiers have finally passed. I peek out. _Nothing. All clear._ With a nod, I convey the situation to the rest of our group and we exit the alleyway. One last lamppost before we have to make the final turn. This time we're moving all together, having passed the worst of the journey. Or..

  
"..-and if I see **anyone** out of the line, don't even **think** about asking for your pay!" a male, distinctly cruel voice commands. It comes as such a surprise we all stop in the middle of the street, not knowing where exactly the voice is going to appear from. All that **is** clear, is that it's approaching, growing louder. 

There are no alleys to hide here, and if we run away, Brash's armor will surely alert them. We slowly move to press up against the closest house, not wanting to stand right in the middle of the empty street. 

"Yessir!" different, numerous male voices respond, shaky and hesitant. They're accompanied by the sounds of moving pairs of feet, like the patrol we've just avoided. The second set of voices narrows down the direction from whence they'll appear - to our left, the street connection right beside the lamppost.

And.. There they are. Five men in simple gear and one in bulky armor, leading the patrol. The lamppost shines dimly onto their helmetted heads. The leader stops. One of the five soldiers accidentally bumps into him, not having expected his halt. The leader shudders at the impact. 

"I-I'm.. Apologies, Sir! My mista-"

The leader turns around on his heel, and with a swift and powerful punch, throws the soldier into the rest of the group. The soldier shrieks but doesn't stand up on his feet. He looks to be unconscious. The others hold him up as the leader speaks.

"Look at him. Look at that useless sack of shit. Couldn't even handle one punch, falling over like a little bitch," he laughs ominously, "So weak! You're all fucking weak! Run to your mothers and say their sons grew up to be a bunch of fucking tramps!"

The group of soldiers stares at him blankly, uncertain of how to respond. We do the same, not that we have much choice. They're blocking or path. All we can do is wait.

"Well?! What do you say?"

One of the soldiers responds, "Y-yes, Sir."

The leader grabs him by the throat and yells, "Yes-Sir-what?! Show me proper respect, you little shit!"

The soldier panics and struggles to let out the next series of words, "Y-yes, Sir M-Mark! I meant n-no offense!"

  
My fists instinctively clench at the sound of the name. Mark. If I could breathe fire, my exhalation would ignite the entire street. _This fucking.. What the fuck happened to him?_ The last time I saw Mark was at the camp, having his title dragged through the mud by Brash and Jarlan, since they were aware of how he came to attain it. 

Something is different about him. This cruelty.. It's completely unlike his self I remember. Mark was always a bit of a rat, as Orchid used to put it, but never a rat that bit back. Not publicly. Always in secret. Now he's playing at a man, acting as if he was never on the recieving end of a humiliating punch.

"Leave him here on the street," Mark barks at the soldiers carrying the unconscious man. "This one deserves no pity. Or pay." The soldiers, although definitely unwilling, obey his order. The man is layed onto the street as the group finally makes progress, walking further down the street and out of our sight.

  
"That can't be the same twat," Brash says. "He couldn't even look me in the eye before, and now he's got enough balls to raise his voice? Hah! No way."

"Y-you know that.. hateful bastard?" Ari asks. It's somehow funny to hear her call Mark a 'hateful bastard'. As fitting as that name is, her coming from Rivera's service and still being amazed by the cruelty of people feels slightly ironic.

Brash chuckles as we warily begin walking towards the unconscious soldier, as he's right along the path we must take, "Yeah, he used to be Bright's fiancé."

Ari gasps, "Wait, what?! You used to-"

"Don't ask. Long story. I can tell you about him later," I promptly respond, hoping to quench her interest if only for the moment. She nods, speculations filling her mind. Just what I needed. Fucking.. 'Sir' Mark and his newly acquired lunacy. 

  
We walk past the still unconscious man and make a turn left, the direction the soldiers first appeared from. Ari stops and says, "Could you give me a moment? I'll.. I'll catch up to you."

"What is it?" I ask, troubled by the sudden stop. There's not much leeway in our progress - any stop, however long, exposes us to possible discovery.

Ari doesn't reply, instead she rummages through her pocket and pulls a few herbs out. Walking back to the soldier, she takes his helmet off, chews the herbs, and smears the result underneath his nose. From the distance we stand in I can tell the helmet bent just a bit and cut his lips open and deep. He's also likely concussed from the blow.

"Forgive me, I couldn't stop him," she whispers to the unconscious man, "But I promise you'll wake up strong and healthy." Suddenly, she chants a spell I haven't heard from anyone before. 

"Qum viribus meis, sanitatem."

Her hands begin glowing over the man's face. I can see his lip wound closing. It's a slow process and clearly draining for Ari, as her eyes shut in pain, but she completes the spell and the soldier's face is mended.

"Why is she.." Brash asks silently, not completing the question. I have no reply to give. 'Because she's a good person' comes to mind. 'Because she knows it's the right thing to do' also appears. I don't say any of them - I'm ashamed I haven't thought of helping him. I could have, definitely. I could have patched him up and applied herbs. But I didn't. _Why didn't I do anything? I would have done anything to help him only a few weeks ago. Why didn't I do anything now?_

  
She gets up and walks back to us. "I'm sorry about that, it's all done now. We can continue."

"Never apologise for helping someone," I say, probably sounding upset - not at her, but with myself. "Never. Got it?"

She brushes a few strands of rogue hair back underneath her cloak's hood and mumbles, "Of course."

  
The evening - well, it's more night than evening now - finally comes to an end. The progress through the town was slower than expected, but.. we're here. We're finally here. After so very long.

I knock on the door twice. 

Feet shuffle behind the door as it slowly creeps open. An elderly woman inspects us three, incredibly suspicious. I immediately take my own cloak's hood off, revealing my face fully underneath the Moon's light.

The woman's eyes widen in shock. She recognises me instantly.

  
"Hi, mom."  
  



	3. Consolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bright connects her lost past with her present past.

Home. 

What is a home? What defines it? Is it simply a place where we store our possessions? A place where we sleep? A place where our loved ones reside? A place where we feel safe and welcome regardless of the circumstances?

Well, whatever it may be, here we are. _No going back now.  
  
_

Faced with her assumed-dead daughter, the woman - my mother - backs away from the door, face covered in wide array of emotions. We quickly follow and enter the house, not desiring to attract any attention from the inevitable guard patrols. 

"What.. what witchcraft is this?! You will not break me, I swear it!" mother vows desperately, taking another single step backwards as we stuff ourselves into the small hallway. I can't tear my eyes from her. The door closes behind us. It's just us and my mother. Father is likely asleep upstairs. Knowing his sleeping habits, I doubt he'll wake regardless of the noise our voices might create.

I step forward, arms spread to the sides. "It's.. it's me," I say, pleading for understanding even though she's yet missing all the facts. "It's me, mom. I'm real. No witchcraft."

The lighting may be dim, coming from several candles around the hallway, but I can clearly see her eyes glistening, however stern her expression. "Begone, phantom! You cannot have my mind, whatever form you take!" her voice continues to break. She's determined that I am not real, even though standing right in front of her.

My heart breaks at the sight of her trembling limbs. It didn't previously occur to me what effect my execution might have had on my parents. Seeing the devastation in just my mom.. Gods. I wish for nothing else than to calm her, reassure her that I am very much alive and explain everything that happened. Let's hope that's within the realm of possibility.

  
I take a few more steps forward. She retreats, convinced that I'm some sort of a hallucination. The hallway isn't that long - I'm standing right in front of my mother while her retreat is halted by the door to my room. Calling it 'my room' doesn't sound right. It used to be the room of a completely different person.

Slowly lifting my right arm, I reach out towards her shoulder. "I'm here," I whisper softly. She strikes a despairing look. My hand descends and makes contact with her shoulder. It's this very contact that broadens her look. 

She jerks her head towards where my hand lies, glaring at it in disbelief. She's quick to gain some senses - both her hands ascend from beside her, cautiously approaching my shoulders. Another contact.

Mouth agape, she breathes heavily before meeting my gaze again. I smile, vision blurrying as mother's look changes from apprehension to one of, still wary, joy. Her eyes give in and break into a violent waterfall. The hands that previously rested on my shoulders drop down slightly as she embraces me, tightly enough to squeeze all life out.

She knows I'm real. She knows I'm here. She knows it really is me.

"The soldiers came back after.. after it happened. They showed me your.." she sobs, "..head." 

Eyes and hands hungry for continous proof of my being real, she goes onto holding my cheeks. Her joyous tears are interrupted by the obvious question. "You're really alive! By the three Gods, how is this possible?"

I move her hands from my face and hold them in my own. "That's a.. long story. And knowing it would only put you in danger."

She gives me a despondent look. "I.. I thought.. I was going mad," she repeatedly stutters, still distraught by the realisation. "I mourned-" mother quickly sighs, calming her voice. "-mourned you for months. And now you're here. To Hell with any danger."

 _'Hell.'_ I had nearly forgotten that most people know only of one singular hell. Travelling with Brash, who now that I think of it always said 'Hells' which should have given me a hint as to his nature, nearly made me forget that fact. 

Anyway.. Not telling mother would be extremely unfair, considering that I've already put her in danger simply by coming here.

I agree with a simple nod.

***

All four of us sat down at the kitchen table. Mother brought her chair next to mine to sit beside me while holding my hand. Ari sat down across the table from us and Brash to my left. All of mother's interaction with the two remained at momentary curious looks. The fact that her dead daughter is alive kept her attention firmly fixed on me.

"Orchid.. what?" mother, completely baffled, asked during my telling, followed by, "Prison?", "Military camp?", and last but not least "..The Witch of the forest ruins? **You** stopped the beast attacks?!" I made sure to not mention anything gruesome. Mother's already been through a lot. No need to add to the pile.

It took a good half-hour to go through the simplest details, but the change in her mood was noticeable. Surprisingly enough, she didn't seem concerned at all when I told her of my being a demonheart. Was she surprised? Oh, definitely. Troubled? Not whatsoever. I omitted the fact that Brash is also one while telling of his accompanying me on the mission. And when it came to Ari, I said we simply rescued her from the ruins.

Both of them were understanding enough not to make any comments. Ari's compassionate expression didn't shock me in the slightest - she's a kinder soul than one could have ever guessed. Brash's silence, though... I expected all sorts of things, but for him to read the situation properly and recognise it's best only I speak? Now **that's** unlike him. I know he can be considerate, even nice, if he really wants. That's not very often, though. I'm glad I matter to him enough to show his good side.

  
"Gods.." mother finally speaks after I connect the entire story to the present. "My little girl.. My little heroine," she smiles, eyes fixed onto mine, desperate to never let me out of sight again. 

"I know it's **a lot** to take in at once, but before you ask anything else-" I try to remain stern, realising the danger she is in, "-you must promise to never tell anyone of this. Not of my being alive, my nature, what I said of Second's and Mark's involvement. Nothing."

Mother nods and surprises me with a smirk, "I was not born yesterday, mind you. Suntown's reach is vast and the people here are less than honorable, as I came to witness on my own."

"Did.. anyone give you and father trouble because of me?"

Her breathing halts. Misery returns. Side-eyeing at Brash and Ari, she quickly examines them and returns her gaze to me again.

"..What is it?" I ask. "Did anything happen?"

Holding my hands even more firmly than before, she looks into my eyes and, with a heavy look, whispers, "I'm so sorry."

"Wh-What about? Tell me," I stumble, seeking answers, but.. I have a feeling I know what she's trying to say. This feeling.. it grows worse as she remains silent. Grows farther and wider, deeper and darker. _It cannot possibly be.._

She offers an anguished, desperate smile; a smile containing all there is to tell. All the struggles she must have gone through, all the pain she must have suffered. This smile parts only to materialise words of what I was fearing. "Your father.. After you were sentenced.." I squeeze her hands back. "..His heart.." she doesn't continue. There is no need.

  
My mind enters a foreign level of emptiness. Dead. My dad.. Gone, just like that. Staring at mine and mother's entwined hands, I don't say anything. If she's still talking, I can't hear her. The room is silent. A leaf falling onto the floor would shatter this quiet. But it is not the room that is silent. It's my own silence.

My mind. Something is wrong. Even now. Knowing what mother said. All I can think of is that.. I can't even remember the last thing me and my father spoke of. What did his voice sound like? What did he use to wear? Did he have a beard? Did he die thinking me a bloodthirsty murderer?

My.. mind. Empty.

But..

When I force myself to think, it's not all vague.

There are points of clarity.

I can clearly remember the color of his eyes, his reducing hairline each passing year, his smile, his anger, his care, his 'eat your food first, then you have fun’ and also his 'I am proud to be your dad' happy look.

I remember.

I..

I will never forget that.

  
"-something, please," mother's voice reaches my ears.

I blink rapidly. During my empty state, things changed. Brash moved from the neighbouring side of the table to right beside me to my left, his hand placed on my back, as mother remains to my right. Ari sits at the same spot, looking as dejected as ever when confronted by death.

How does one even react in this situation? And why do I feel so desperately empty? Maybe it.. hasn't kicked in yet. His heart failed after my execution. He died because of me. The stress and horror. It's my fault. Mine alone.

"Don't blame yourself, darling. You know he wasn't of best health. It would have come sooner or later," mother attempts to reassure me, noting my state of petrification. "Promise me you will not place fault with yourself."

I frown, eyebrows brought as close to each other as possible. "That.. wouldn't.. be right. It was my doing that caused-" She immediately interrupts me by grasping my jaw in her open palm.

"Don't you dare even think that," she snaps, genuinely upset. "He loved you from the moment you were born to the moment he took his last breath. You besmirch all our love for you if you blame yourself for something you couldn't have possibly changed." She releases my jaw, seeing my expression changing. "If you say anything like it again, I swear by the Three I'm making you all sleep on the streets," she offers a mild smile.

I don't return it. She's had months to go through the process of acceptance - not that she looks any less heartbroken than expected. I may only have a few days, if any at all. There is no room for weakness. I.. must stay strong. For myself. For my mother. For my father. I doubt they'd be very happy with me when we meet in the afterlife if I got myself killed for nothing. 

"I'll make you proud," I suddenly blurt out. It's not the response my mother expected, but she's content with it.

"You already have, many times over."

  
It took another half-hour to leave the depressing subject of death, regardless of whose, before my mother kindly forced a change of topic. She inquired more about my companions, seeing as they would be spending the night, if not more than one, in her- our home. 

Mother first questioned Ari - how she came to find herself in the ruins and in need of a rescue. To my surprise, Ari already had a story prepared. She told mother how a group of bandits kidnapped her from home in Ravage and the witch had paid the ransom, meaning to experiment on Ari, but her 'valiant rescuers', as she generously described us, came to save her just in time.

The conversation next headed in the only possible direction. Mother seemed particularly interested in knowing more about Brash. At first I didn't understand why, but she reveals her reasons.

"I remember seeing a young man of your visage at the knighting," she notes. "A Scarcewall knight, standing right opposite of my daughter. And now you two are present here. Together," her eyes narrow in a sly manner at that particular word. "Destiny is curious, isn't it?"

Brash snorts and, for the first time, actually speaks. "First of all, how in the name of-.." he quickly clears his throat. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he looks nervous. "..-Gods do I look like 'a young man' to you... madam..?" Well, if there is anything I would have previously considered surreal, that is it. Brash talking with my mother. Using manners. I'm expecting to wake up any moment now.

He continues, "And second of all, destiny had hardly anything to do with that. Just a.. lucky coincidence that I was chosen to accompany her in the mission. Right, Bright?" I turn to him and nod, "Very lucky." Mother isn't aware of the real role Brash was supposed to play. Better keep it that way.

  
Mother waves her hand dismissively, "You're all young compared to me, but nevermind that!" She stands up from her chair and opens a drawer of a nearby cabinet, rummaging through it. "You're clearly all awfully tired, and since I'm not blind just yet,-" she pulls out a stack of blankets and throws it at Brash, "-you will be sleeping in the hallway, away from the ladies." Mother fixes him a firm look, "That won't be a problem, yes?"

_That's certainly a question._

Brash actually stops to think his response through. In a calm manner, he says: "It won't," before also getting up from the chair and heading to the entrance hallway where mother points him to. _No protests or arguing? Most curious._

Ari quickly stands up also, asking: "W-well.. Where should I go, then?"

I point towards the door heading to my room, "There's a bed to the left. Drag the mattress onto the ground and sleep on it. I'll make do with the bedframe." Her eyebrows sink in disapproval, likely unhappy that she's getting the better end of the deal. "I insist, Ari." She doesn't fight me on it and heads to investigate the room.

  
With Ari inside, no doubt preparing everything, and with Brash disappearing into our storage room to make his bedding, I'm alone with mother at the table. Now that it's just us, she looks much more comforable and chooses the topic of conversation eagerly.

"You should have told me when you came home after the knighting, darling! I can't believe you hid that man from your family." _..What._ Lifting my left hand from my lap onto the table, she asks, "When did you two even find the time to get married with all the commotion?"

_Oh._

_The ring._

_Uh... Uh-oh._

I jerk my hand out of her grasp, stunned by the assumption. I mean.. it **is** on my ring-finger. I can't say I blame her. Not that.. the thought.. would be unpleasant, either. I quickly clear my throat and take on an unintentionally wide look, "N-no, it's not like that! This is just a ring of protection," I point to the symbols on it, "See? Balsa's Shield with Sun? It's a magical ring, **not**.. an.. engagement ring."

She squints and eyes me curiously. "Alright.. So, why not?"

"Why not what?"

"Why are you two not married?"

"Wh-what could you possibly mean by that?" I try to plead ignorance.

"Oh, darling.." she casts a sad smile. "I wish for nothing but to see you happy. Is it truly so terrible to share thoughts with your mother?"

  
There.. really isn't a reason for me to try and hide anything. I can't say why I even tried. It's not that I don't want to tell her, but it's been a while since I last attempted this kind of a small talk. Exhaling outloud, I give it up. 

"I'm sorry."

"Apologise by finally responding!" her face lights up, impatient to learn of all there is to know. "I've heard plenty of awful rumours, but he seems proper enough from what I've seen here. Does he treat you well? Is he kind? Are you certain he is not just playing with you?" The light in her eyes grows dimmer, "He **is** much older than you."

"Mother.." I pout and strike a disappointed look.

Her hands sign forfeit, "Apologies!" and she chuckles, "I only mean well, you know that."

"There's no need to worry. He's sacrificed a lot- everything to stay by my side." She acknowledges this by a troubled look. "And.. as for what kind of a person he is.." I continue, "..He's the bravest man I've ever met. He helps me realise how strong I can be, even when facing my worst fears. He's patient even when I push him. Always valuing my safety above his. And even though he may not have been a good man in the past, maybe even now, he's there when I need him most."

  
Mother waits not even a second before bringing me to herself, embracing me once again. "I am so glad you found someone like that," she says. When she pulls away, I can see her sly smile. _Should I be worried or.._ "Aside from that," her grin grows wider, "How does he.. treat you?"

I wince, "What do you mean? I just told you what he's like."

"Oh you know what I mean!" she leans in closer, expecting an answer.

 _Is she.. asking me.._ "Mother?!" I recoil, "Why would you ask me that!"

She laughs, "I'm sorry! We never had any girl talk before, I don't rightly know what to ask!"

"How does that.. even.." I struggle to find words. I can feel my face flushing with heat - my hands fly up to cover it swiftly, hiding my wide-eyed expression.

  
"Alright, forget I said anything!" she mellows her laughs into chuckles. "At any rate, he seems leagues better than the bastard of a man you chose before," her chuckles cease as a disgusted grimace takes their place. "I still **can't believe** he got engaged days after your sentence! And marrying that hussy!" she hisses.

My hands fall from my face. "Wait, they truly got married? I thought they were still merely engaged."

"Oh, yes," she begins, pouring out words of spite and mockery, "Happened only a few weeks ago. Quite the event, considering his status. He made sure to personally invite me - signed letter and all. As if I'd ever humour the snake."

The name seems fitting. I'd have nearly forgotten all he's put me through. As understandable as the decision to sacrifice me for the good of the town is, his track record stands absolutely horrendous.

"Mother," I remember the questions I meant to ask earlier, "We actually saw Mark on the way here - don't worry, he didn't notice us. He looked.. different. Spoke to and treated his subordinates cruelly. Do you have any idea why that is? Or why there are so many soldiers patrolling the streets?"

She thinks for a second. "You.. haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Oh dear," she sighs. "A few weeks ago - funnily enough, only days after Rungari's marriage - disappearances began to blight Feline. People just.. vanishing! A curfew was instilled as a preventative measure, but.. there's always someone gone every day," her voice breaks but she shakes her fear off, putting on a forced smile. "Don't worry yourself with that. Most of the cases were travellers anyway. It's likely they just left the inns without paying!" Her change of demeanor reveals that there's more to the story. I'll have to look into it tomorrow, together with other investigation I have in mind. 

Still, this doesn't answer the question of what happened to Mark. I doubt mother knows, though. Taking what she said into account, it sounds like his duties have been less than what he had hoped a knight would deal with. Perhaps the fact he bears actual responsibility for others took a toll on him? That's the only answer I'm finding presently.

  
"You should go and get a good night's rest," mother says. I nod and rise from the chair. Still, there is something I want to do first before going to bed. Reaching into my shoulder bag, I pull out a heavy coin purse and press it into mother's hand.

"Take it. And no arguments, mom," I insist. "Life must have been impossible for you while I was gone. And with.. dad gone.. as well." She wears a long face, glaring at the purse resting in her hand. "There's enough to make living easier for a while. Please, use it." Hearing my resolve, she hesitantly accepts. I know this isn't the last I'll hear about this - that's just how she is - but for now that's enough. 

Saying our good-night, I head into my room to join Ari, while Brash is likely already asleep on the blankets in our storage room.

***

"Mommy?"

"Yeees, little pumpkin?"

"Where's your own mommy and daddy?"

"They're long gone now, sweetie."

"O-oh. I'm.. I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"𝓦𝓱𝔂 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝔀𝓪𝔂 **?** 𝓘𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓭𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽."

  
I wake up and promptly lift myself up from the wooden bedframe onto my elbows, breathing rapidly. My room. Ari on the floor, snoring. Still dark out. I must have not slept for very long. Fucking nightmares. Even when I don't recall most of what happens in them, they leave me with a horrible sense of panic after waking.

I try to ease my breathing, not wanting to alert Ari. She never needs much noise to wake up. Unfortunately, I don't think I myself can return to sleep. Not like this, anyway. Quietly getting up from the bed, I tiptoe towards the door, leaving the room as silently as possible. Inside the hallway, I take the door right next to mine and enter the storage room.

A single candle helps light the small chamber. Since it's still burning, I can assume I didn't sleep for more than an hour, maybe even less. Brash lies sprawled on top of the blankets. His presence alone helps - I'm already feeling much calmer. There's a small space for me to lie down next to him, so I do. Facing him, I close my eyes and try to sleep again.

  
"Well, now," Brash says in a sleepy voice, "look what the cat dragged in." I look up to where his head lies and, surely enough, he's right there, looking at me, squinting through the low light. "Missed me?"

I reply by moving right next to him, pressing myself against his chest as his arms hold me close, reminding me of their protection.

"Your mother might just crucify me if she finds you here," he says. "I **don't think** I'm going to enjoy that very much, but I'm willing to take the risk."

"Should I go? I'm sorry I woke-"

"As if I'm letting you leave, kitten."

  
Brash always does a great job of ridding me of horrible thoughts. Or, at least, postponing them, until I can find a way to deal with the problem I'm facing. This time, though, the issue might be slightly more complicated. I think it's finally hitting me. The reality of.. my dad being gone. Still only superficially, but it has already dug into my dreams. And since that's from where most of my current problems stem, it definitely isn't any help at the moment.

"So.." he starts, "..How are you handling it? Not too great, I guess?"

"What are you talking about?"

He breathes, irritated by the response, "If you don't want to talk about it, fine. Just thought it might do you good."

Silence.

_..Come on, Bright. If you can't talk about it with Brash, who else is there really?_

  
Pushing through the not-wanting-to-bother-Brash tendency I've built, I blurt out my thoughts. "It's coming to me only slowly. The realisation. I.. I loved my dad. He taught me, cared about me, was there for me. But.. I feel so.. empty. Like it still doesn't matter. I think.. I'm losing my mind."

Brash continues to hold me close. I can barely hear him breathe over the beating of his heart.

"When my father died," he speaks seriously, "I thought, 'Finally, we can live in peace'. He was a fucking asshole. Not just to me, but to my mother and sister, too. Can't count the amount of times I thought of killing him. Anyway.." he continues, "..Even though I despised that fuck, I felt the same way you do. Empty. When the courier said father drank himself to death, my first reaction was laughing in his face." Brash snickers, "Must have thought I was a fucking nutcase."

"..Fuck, I'm pretty trash at this consoling thing, huh? What I was trying to say.. was that.." He ponders his own words, "..That you're not losing your mind. Feeling nothing isn't something bad. You're not heartless. I'd know, trust me. You're a cute, feely little cat."

..I'll never be able to anticipate what Brash does or says. At most, I expected him to tell me something along the lines of 'Be strong, can't afford to break down,' or 'Everybody dies, it's only a matter of when and where.' Those options seemed to suit him. I'm glad he chose to say neither.

"Thank you. Honestly. You have no idea what your words mean to me."

"Anything for you, sweetheart."

  
Closing my eyes, I realise the truth. The world is the same as it was just moments ago. It will be the same when I wake up in a couple of hours, and.. that's okay. It doesn't have to change because whatever was occupying it is gone. It might never change. It might always stay the same. It's us that change. Us that must adapt.

I will tell the stories my father used to tell me to the people I will meet, to the kids I wish to have and to myself whenever I feel low. Slowly and gradually I will deal with his passing, but I will still remember him, because I am who I am because of him.  
  



	4. Self-Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awakening in Feline, for better or worse.

_Ghh._

Slowly, my senses return and I find myself awake. And unbearably warm. When I search for the reason, I discover two blankets placed over my back and legs. _Brash._ I grin like an idiot. Turning my head right to greet him reveals that Brash is, in fact, no longer present. What I thought to be him is only a heap of blankets sloppily stacked on top of each other.

Curious. He never wakes before I do. I attribute this to his deathly deep slumber. Honestly, it does sometimes appear as if he passed away, but surely enough, his furious twitches of eyebrows always calm me. This time the issue is of a totally different nature. _I guess hunger must have woken him. So godsdamned glottonous._

I get up, quickly run the brush from my bag through my hair, and look myself over in the hand-held mirror Flora gave me. _I look so.. different._ The improvised black hair dye is already fading. Charcoal paste doesn't dye hair permanently, but I had hoped it would last longer. Thankfully, it's only the roots, and only barely. I still have the cloak to hide myself in, so it shouldn't be an issue. And the scars.. Combined with the new colour, I can't picture how mother even recognised me. 

This examination is promptly interrupted by a heavy knock on the door. I gasp, hide the mirror and instinctively control weapons into my palms, but realise how unwarranted that action is. Stuffing them back into the bracers, I turn to the door and mean to head towards it, but before I take even one step, it bursts open.

  
A man as wide as the doorframe itself menaces with his presence. What at first resembles Brash to a fault, quickly becomes the image of someone unknown. Short, dark hair, analytical expression, worn and seasoned glare, and most tellingly, Scarcewall colours. 

"Here she is," he rasps in a deep voice. As I quickly pull the weapons out again and prepare for whatever he can throw my way, he continues speaking unamusedly. Either this is another Scarcewall knight, or.. Mace himself.

"You're all trouble. First you refuse to die. Then you ensnare my soldiers. And now you're attempting.." he looks around, hands lifted palms upwards, questioning the location, or perhaps the situation, we find ourselves in. "..whatever this is supposed to be." He lets out a sigh, "Thankfully, in your case, irksomeness is equalled by stupidity."

Signaling something to the sides of the hallway he's standing in, he takes a few steps back. I tense up in anticipation. Within a few seconds, six from head to toe armored soldiers make their way into the storage room. Even though it's supposed to be a tiny room, it suddenly feels much larger than it should, perfectly capable of storing all of us at once. None of them make another move, surrounding me in a half-circle.

"Gentlemen, show the little lady," the man orders. At once all soldiers reach behind their backs, perfectly synchronised in movement. "Show her the price of freedom," he continues. I shift my eyes from one soldier to another, terrified to the bones but not willing to show weakness just yet. They're done with their search. Each of them lift what they were searching for in front of their heads. Right where their faces are. 

It's.. They're.. 

I lose control and panic, letting the weapons drop to the ground with an ominous ring, foretelling of what's to come. The man laughs lungfully. What the soldiers are holding.. appear to be human heads. Severed heads. Heads of Rose, Jarlan, Ari, Brash, my mom, and also Mors. I fall to my knees and ball myself into a careless squat.

Once satisfied by my despairing reaction, the soldiers drop the heads right in front of me, only aggravating my condition. The helmets follow quickly. Eyes dried up, unable to find tears, I look to the men. To my shock, I discover the reality of the situation. My despair switches to wrath.

  
The six standing in front of me are none other than Bold, Rivera, Garrosh, the middle-aged man I was forced to kill in the arena, and two of the five bandits who attacked us. Not the collection of all the people I had to kill, or witness dying, but that's for the best. I stand up, as enraged as ever.

"How dare you," I growl at no one in particular.

The six religiously recite what is usually said, "Us or them," pointing towards the heads laid in front of my feet.

I grimace, even more furious. "What is that even supposed to mean?! You're all rotting in the fucking ground! Leave me be!"

The man I'm certain is Mace walks into the room and, with a new, vulnerable-looking gleam in his eyes, he says, "Time for you to go. Suntown awaits, and you wouldn't want to disappoint her. Or him. Or me."

With an agape mouth, baring my gritted teeth, I growl again, "What the-" but am not allowed to finish, as the two nearest soldiers get ahold of my arms. I struggle, trying to shake them off, but nothing I do, think or imagine works. I never lose control in my dreams anymore, apart from the constant appearances of ghosts of my past. Now nothing is working. There's.. no way this is real. Right?

Mace approaches.

_No way._

He pulls his sword out and aims the sharp and deadly tip right underneath my chin.

_This isn't real._

"Tell him I said 'Hi', will you?" 

And a moment later, the cold steel pierces my throat.

  
I awake.

***

 _Ghh._

Slowly, my senses return and I find myself awake. Unbearably warm. _..Wait a second._ My eyes spring open. I jump up, taken over by horror from the nightmare, and examine the area. A few blankets were placed on me, ones I knocked away during my swift ascent. Brash is gone, same as before.

 _Okay. Fuck. Is.. is this real?_ A heavy knock on the door. The very same as when Mace knocked. I take my weapons out and control them in the air, fully ready to assault whatever the dream showed me. It's.. possible.. it was a premonition of some sort. I hope not, knowing what it presented afterwards.

The door slowly opens. I'm prepared this time. And, as I feared, the same man stands inside the doorframe. This time I don't wait. With a grunt I push both daggers through the air in the direction of his chest. Even though he staggers backwards, genuinely surprised by my reaction, he knocks the weapons aside by his metal forearm bracers. A worthless attack, and now I can't even see the weapons - they're somewhere in the hallway.  
  


" **What the fuck** was that supposed to be?!" the man roars. _Wait.._ I focus my adrenaline-doped brain and try to make out his expression and when confronted by the full revelation, I gasp. 

"W-what the hells?" I question Brash, specifically about his change of appearance. His hair is cut short. He looks nothing like his previous self, only distinguishable by the scar, black eye and a deadly grimace.

"What. **The fuck**. Is wrong with you, woman?" He exhales, still totally bewildered, and crosses his arms. "If I knew you'd despise it enough to fucking murder me, I'd have maybe reconsidered."

I continue staring warily. "Is this real?"

He drops his arms and flails them around, actually pissed off. "What, is this a usual nightmare you have? Me with short hair? Fucking hells. You know, you've got a bitch's face yourself."

_Yeah, this is real, no doubt about it. And no doubt I'm losing my mind._

  
"Shut it," I scowl. Taking a few steps until I stand in front of him, I examine his new look closely with my hands. It feels a bit rugged, not as smooth anymore, but looks just fine. I doubt anyone would recognise him from the back. Unfortunately, his scar is memorable enough. "You look great," I grin and retreat my hands from his hair as he stands unfazed. "Sorry about.. uh, trying to.. yeah. I didn't recognise you."

He makes a grimace but relaxes his posture afterwards. "Well, that's the point."

"But.. why did you do it? You didn't even want to have your hair dyed, and now you cut it off completely?"

Brashe strikes a fickle look; his eyes move from one object to another, as if fueled by nervousness. "It.." he clears his throat, "..wasn't my idea. Your mom said I shouldn't walk around like that, hood or not. That anyone would recognise me from the knighting if exposed even for a moment."

A few long, long seconds pass. I stare at him, wide-eyed, eyebrows bolted to the top of my head. "Did you just say.. my mom gave you a haircut?" I chuckle while speaking.

"So what?" he responds. "It was the smart thing to do."

"Hmmm. True, but.." I grin widely, "..You do look grumpier like this."

Brash scoffs, returning life to the rascality of his voice. "Oh, really? Grumpier?"

I nod profusely. "Grumpier."

"So godsdamned rude," he says impishly, "Someone's a bad, bad influence on you!"

  
"Are you really?" asks a third voice from behind Brash. We turn towards it and see my mother scampering like a rabbit through the kitchen from one cabinet to the other, not sparing us even a glance. "Come come, already! I'm not making food for ghosts, am I?" I cackle at her comment while Brash tenses up. Gods, it's like he can never take it easy. I urge him to take a few steps by pushing into his back - we wouldn't have left the storage room otherwise.

"I hope you're staying for a while! I'll finally have a reason to bake your favourite again: mincemeat pie!"

"We.. We cannot stay for long. Second will have me jailed and sent to death in Suntown if anyone recognises me," I frown. "I don't want to put you in danger either. Just our being here is-"

"Oh, stop worrying about me already!" mother exhales, irritated, "You'll have wrinkles from the constant frowning and scowling," she continues jokingly, "A few more days spent in that grimace and you'll look older than me!"

I smile, "Well, I appreciate the warning."

  
When we're finished with breakfast, I note that Ari hasn't woken yet, which is more than unusual for her. Mother quickly responds, "Oh, she's long gone! Said she wants to look around the town, so I gave her directions to the market."

I involuntarily let my jaw drop and burst out, "Y-you **what**?! Mother! What if-"

"What if what?" she interrupts me as if to scold me. "It's clear the only ones in real trouble are you two. I'd recognise you without the cloaks anytime, and even with them you'll attract attention wearing all that armor!" She flings her hand through the air, dismissing the conflict before it even truly begins. "With her cloak on, she looks just like everyone else. Her accent might draw questions, sure, but it's not as if foreigners never passed through Feline!" Mother sighs and shoots me a mischievous look, "Honestly, Bright, darling. Sometimes you don't live up to that name," she jokes but immediately apologises by mouthing off 'sorry' and making a remorseful face.

Out of nowhere, Brash bursts out laughing right after mother's comment, then turns to me and loudly exclaims, "Hahaha! You just got so fucked!"

Well.

His laughter slowly and cautiously mellows, turning into a distressed sulk as me and mother stare at him, taken aback by that kind of a contribution. And here I was, thinking he was doing an impressive job of holding himself back. I can't help but look extremely flushed.

"Ah, yes," mother begins coolly, "spoken with all the grace of an acute rash," she glares at him. At first that glare feels hostile, but she's clearly amused by the crudeness of his words and the fact that he doesn't mince them for anybody. I doubt Brash is able to make this distinction though - one arm of his already rests on the table, its hand hiding his face from our protruding looks.

  
Mother sighs, "Anyway," and turns to me again, "Your friend's a big girl. Just like you are. She can take care of herself."

"I don't doubt that, but.. what you said yesterday.. the kidnappings." A shiver runs down my spine. "I'm concerned about what may happen with our group separated like this. She's too trusting for her own good, I'd rather avoid her getting hurt."

Mother's eyes flash. A grim expression. "You.. you reminded me of something just now. Something concerning that friend of yours - the distinct, maverick woman I saw you talking to a few times. She **did** use to run the inn in the Noble's district, correct?"

Blood froze in my veins the moment she described her. The very reason I decided for a change of direction. I was wondering how to go about investigating where exactly she had gone. All I know is that she headed to Ravage, but it's also possible this destination changed. Feline is the last place I know she stayed at for certain.

"Sybil. Yes." Brash removes the hand covering his face, interest once again piqued by the turn in the subject. He, after all, knows why I desired the change of our course. "What about her?"

"Well, I only got to know this a few days after your.. you know," her face crinkles momentarily, "but apparently a girl's body was found in that inn, the very same day of the.. horribleness. A murder." My eyes dig into the table. Were they daggers, it would stand no more. "Thank the Three that not many knew of your friendship. They'd have no doubt blamed it on you as well. Bastards."

The day I was executed. That's when it was found. And.. I saw Sybil last in front of Orchid's the night before I was sentenced. Telling me she's leaving. Gods. Fuck. If she had honestly done it to someone there, did she ever think of killing me? Her comments of how much I reminded her of her sister.. I'm beginning to feel sick.

"So, no culprit was found?" I ask for more information.

"No, nobody was taken. The inn actually still operates, but as far as I know it's doing rather poorly under the new management."

"New-.. right," I turn to Brash, "We should have a look. I remember someone else from the inn. Maybe she still works there." Brash's reply comes as a troubled frown.

"Well, you can't go now!" mother swiftly exhales. "Inns only open in the afternoon and close right before the curfew. You'd do well to avoid being seen then. I've heard of.. most unpleasant experiences with soldiers."

And there goes the plan for the noon only moments later. Curfew and disturbing tales of soldiers? Completely believable, considering what we saw on our own last night. Still.. Mark. I shudder at the image of him chastising the soldier. Either way - it's still incredibly early and I'd rather not sit at home, watching the Sun move. A watched Sun never moves.

  
Mother stands up from the table and says: "Alright, I'll begin working on the pie!" before rummaging through the cabinets again. "You two have time to kill; this monstrosity will take a few hours!" 

Nodding at Brash we both get up and grab our cloaks from the hallway, putting them over ourselves, covering most of our faces in deep hoods. Good thing it's getting cooler outside, so it won't be as suspicious as wearing a full cloak in the peak of summer. "We should try to find Ari; make sure she's alright," I say. Brash rolls his eyes and scoffs. I frown at that reaction. "Better safe than sorry, even if you don't particularly care for her."

"I don't get why you're so uptight about this. If she could handle herself in Scarcewall, she can handle herself here."

"Scarcewall?" I wince. "What would she ever do there? Don't you people have some policy against women wearing accessories-" I lower my voice for the next four words, "-with obvious demonic symbols all over them?"

Brash snorts, "Where'd you fucking hear that?" He says it loudly enough for mother to hear. She gives him a quick 'manners!' before he staggers and blurts out an apology. I can't help but giggle anytime he gets embarrassed like that. Well, I can't say if 'embarrassed' is the right word. 

"Just assumed so."

  
We leave with a farewell and continue the conversation outside. The Sun's hiding behind a cluster of heavy-looking clouds, dark enough to augur rain, maybe even a thundering storm. With our hoods on, I walk with Brash towards where the market is located; the shared square for both districts.

"Did you also assume we take the heads of anyone who pisses us off?"

"..No?" I respond uncertainly. "I wouldn't think so?"

"Well, we do. Did. Sometimes."

"Oookay, then. But that doesn't answer what Ari was doing in Scarcewall."

"Rivera would send her with messages- fucking orders to do whatever she put her cunt mind to. No idea how the cultist whore got past all the guards and into the Palace without anyone noticing."

I give him a shove for calling her that, only to realise moments later that we're likely being too loud and my contribution isn't helping our cause to stay unsuspicious. With the hood covering most of my range of vision, it's difficult to see exactly how many people are around. All I see are pairs of feet walking anxious walks, swiftly passing by. Not even that many of them either. The streets feel more desolate than I recall.

  
Carefully looking around the buildings when no feet are visible, I notice the state of absolute desolation a few houses have come to. The owners must have moved out and left them to ruins. Or the new owners aren't as caring.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I say.

"It's not like my saying no will stop you, will it?" he groans. "Whatever, I don't have a problem answering unless it's something really fucking dumb."

 _Well, shit. Fuck it, here goes anyway._ "Why do you despise cultists so badly?"

A silence follows as he gives the question a think. Either the question or the answer, but I suspect the former, since he begins with an unfortunately loud scoff. "Well! Aside from the fact that they suck cocks of demons who kill and fuck whoever is stupid enough to summon them? And the fact that one of the cunts helped in fucking up my entire life? Gee, I don't know, sweetie."

"Okay, sorry, forget it," I concede. "Stupid question."

Without a prompt his hand reaches for mine, weaving our fingers together. "You think I might snap and send Ari to meet her ex in the afterlife?"

I flinch. _Wait.. Did he just.. say her name? Well, that's new._ I hold onto the hand that holds mine in a bind. "I suppose I can't really picture a situation that would result in that," I answer.

"Good. You found your brain."

I quickly shove him again and he laughs.

  
When we finally arrive to the square, I spot guards throughout its entirety. They don't seem to be doing very much; standing, observing, some nodding off, possibly due to the increase in hours and shifts. Brash and I decide it's best we split and look for Ari that way; a lot of merchants and commoners are present aside from the soldiers, filling up the space, making it difficult to spot her. Plus, we won't attract as much attention separated. 

Agreeing to meet at the same spot we're at now when the church bell announces twelve - in about an hour - we head in different directions. Brash heads towards the center of the market while I make rounds at the outskirts and in the alleys which also have a few merchants, albeit shady but with customers nevertheless. None of those merchants are people Ari would be found dealing with, though. Knowing her, she's likely in a highly visible place to avoid getting snatched by anyone meaning to be malicious.

  
"Have a look! Have a look!"

"CABBAGES! TOMATOES! CARROTS!"

"Silk! Silk clothes and golden necklaces for your lovely lady!"

  
The shouting is unstoppable and my search goes pretty much nowhere. The alleys are clean and so are the outskirts. The market also doesn't have anything interesting enough for me to consider purchasing, not that I've got much gold remaining from what I gave to mother, but still a good amount. Brash and Ari have their own pouches - of course I wouldn't give mother every single piece of gold we possess, the journey still isn't over.

Some of the people I pass talk about the situation in town; their fears, suspicions, denial but also some gossip. The first thing I hear is some man saying: "As if the cultist's execution and the beast war wasn't enough. Now this. Maybe this city is cursed." Even though not bearing any new information, it's good to get a feel of the atmosphere. Unfortunate that it's come to this.

 _How did I not think of it before? This is such a good place to hear information without the risk of asking personally._ I lean onto a nearby building's wall and try to listen to a group of women's conversation. Some of it is indiscernible from the hum of the crowd, but most is clear enough to understand.

"..home late! Poor Azura found him bleeding by the door," says one of the women, the oldest one by far.

All the others gasp. "Bleeding? But wasn't he on a patrol with our good Sir?" says another. A younger woman makes some insulting remark towards the soldier, hinting at the fact that he 'must not have been good enough', eventually also finding blame in the woman Azura, who I assume to be the soldier's mother. All but the oldest one nod repeatedly, as the youngest one swoons in thoughts. "He is the epitome of valiance! Our brave Sir, taking on the bandits and murderers all by himself! Very heroic!"

I uncontrollably burst into laughter. Good thing I'm far enough and the crowd is vocal enough for them not to hear me - at least I hope so. They happily continue in their bickering. The conversation takes a downward spiral, most of the women slobbering over Mark and saying how their daughters would be a better fit than his wife, Flora.

Finally a few minutes later, some intriguing information comes from this continuous showcase of poor judgement. "Blau said they argue every single day at lunch! Would you believe that?" says the youngest one. "She can't possibly be a good wife! If anyone ever took **me** to Summer's Guile, I'd know how to thank them properly," she giggles with the rest of them. That's all I need - and wish - to hear. Gods, these women are completely blind.

_Summer's Guile. It's right next to the square.. And lunch is usually served at this hour. I think it's about time I had a closer look._

***

Hiding in plain sight in front of the restaurant, I sit on a bench and wait for any sign of the two; going in or going out. Obviously I want to avoid getting too close, but I also want to know more about these arguments they're supposed to be having every day. If it helps me put a finger on what the fuck is going on with Mark, my mind will rest easier.

Nothing happens for way too long. And it's nearly twelve. I don't want to worry Brash by not showing up on time, but I'm already here and I don't intend to waste an opportunity to get more information. It's definitely too risky and reckless, but fuck it. I won't spend my whole life cowering in a corner until someone rescues me. Or kills me.

Done with sitting on the bench, I confidently walk up towards the restaurant, intending to spy through the alley window that leads into the dining area, when the front door busts open violently. I immediatelly pull the hood down as far as possible and quicken my steps to lead me into the alley faster.

  
"..even look at me?" a woman pleads. When I get into the alley and hide behind the building's corner, I'm able to see the group of people that nearly broke the door open. Three men and two women. Surely enough, the one talking is Flora, shaking and sounding distressed. Not in her armor, as she usually was at this time. Her hair is also shorter than I remember - from a ponytail long enough to cover her back, to a short, uneven cut around her shoulders.

Aside from her, one of the men is Mark, although I'd never tell only from the voice. I can see his face underneath the pretentiously adorned helmet. _Why the fuck is he even wearing it? Wasn't he **just** indoors? _ The two other men are foreign to me, but they're both wearing armor just like Mark in Feline colours, so I assume they're just some other soldiers. The second woman seems familiar. It takes me a while but I recognise her - Flora's cousin, the only other family she has apart from her parents since her second cousin's murder.

"I won't bother looking at you when you're being hysterical," Mark says coldly. "Get yourself together. And stop making a scene, for fuck's sake." Flora starts crying. Her cousin holds her around shoulders as the two men laugh and Mark shoots her a dispassionate glare.

"Women!" shouts one of the soldiers. "Either bitching or crying!" All three of them laugh in unison. _What a group of assholes. True winners, our army has._

"You're all acting like wild animals ever since Victor disappeared! You can't even protect your own, can you? Useless bastards!" Flora's cousin shouts back. Mark's heavy backhand smack her over the face. It's so powerful she falls backwards and down on the ground, leaving Flora standing alone as Mark approaches with a dark, disgusting look. "Nobody berates me. Not you-" he looks at Flora's cousin holding her eye with her hand, "-and especially not you. Teach her some manners," he speaks again to Flora, "or be ready to look more colourful tomorrow."

What the fuck, honestly. I can't believe my eyes and ears. Flora bows to Mark and then drops down to her cousin to help her up. The men don't give them any consideration and leave when Mark is done talking. It is only when Flora turns towards the direction I'm watching from when I see the marks on her face and neck. Purple, green, yellow. Good Gods. My heart starts beating up a storm.

The women stand up together and slowly limp away in the direction of the Noble's district. I'm baffled by the fact that there are people completely content with watching this happen every day, even putting the blame on Flora. I have half a mind to just go up to Mark and stab him in the face. Unfortunately, I understand that's not the best of choices in my situation. Not at the moment, at least.

I'm also considering going up to Flora and asking what the hells is happening, but that would also end badly, seeing as she's religiously devoted to him. It's possible this is from pure fear, but even then she would tell him of my visit and before I'd know, an alarm and an extensive search would be sounded. I doubt that's something Brash, Ari or even my mother would commend me for.

  
Boing. Boing. _Shit, the bell!_

Putting myself together, I walk as calmly as possible through the square, making my way to the aforementioned place of meeting. It takes a while pushing myself through the crowd, but I make it within a few minutes. Brash and Ari are already there; Brash looks as annoyed as ever, nodding to whatever Ari excitedly shows him from the things she bought, no doubt showering him with endless information.

Seeing me approach, he breathes a sigh a relief. "Where the fuck were you?" he interrupts Ari's presentation. "When you said twelve, I didn't think you'd mean at fucking midnight!"

"I'm barely a few minutes late, love," I chuckle and sneak my way into his arms. Brash stares a deadly stare, but can't help but go for a kiss, clearly happy to see me safe. 

When our greeting is finished, I turn to Ari and inspect what exactly it is she was willing to go out alone for. Her arms are full of books I remember having read at Orchid's, plus some figures and idols. She also got herself an over-the-shoulder bag, just like I've got. Ari must have recognised its invaluable uses.

"Need anything else here?" I ask her. 

She shakes her head from side to side. "I am getting a bit hungry, though. Should I make something when we get back?"

I smile, "No need, mother is preparing lunch. We should head back before she decides our butts aren't worth the effort." Grabbing some of the books Ari is carrying, I help her balance the weight. She's got something in the bag as well; it's weighing her shoulder down. I wonder if she spent literally every single piece of gold she had from selling her jewelry.

  
There goes the noon. Mother said the inns all open around afternoon. It's surprising that the restaurant was open, but then again that's not an inn. Different rules apply to different establishments, I guess. Or just to the guardsmen.

The plan is clear for the rest of the day: Eat. Prepare. Visit Sybil's old inn. See if there's anyone to get information out of. This doesn't sound like the safest of ideas, but I can't just waltz into Ravage, thinking Sybil will be standing on the first corner. It's still a pretty large town, nearly the size of Feline. 

All we need to do is leave before the curfew, be sure to not reveal why we're asking about Sybil, and not have anybody recognise us.

What could possibly go wrong?  
  



	5. Slippery Slope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first encounter.

"It's not just strangers you should expect the worst out of. It's the people you know as well."

***

Upon our return to mother's house, Ari rushes into the kitchen, plops down onto a chair and lays her purchased books onto the table, immediately comparing passages, circling or crossing words out with graphite. Brash sits down next to her, watching her enthusiasm, but witholds the need to make a snarky comment, instead he's inspecting his equipment. I join my mother and assist her with the pie. It's nearly done.

Brash, mother and I fill our stomachs, but Ari barely touches her serving, completely entranced by the books. Any of our attempts at conversation are simply nodded at or responded to with 'Mhm' or 'Of course', even though the questions aren't the yes-or-no kind. We leave her at it since whatever she's doing is clearly important to her.

I gather the wooden plates and wash them in a prepared bowl of water. Looking around the room, it's obviously more run-down than half a year ago when I was here last. Fewer possessions, decorations; no luxury apart from not being subjected to privation.

"Would you be so kind as to walk with me outside and help me with something?" mother asks abruptly. I'm turned, back facing all the others, and so I reply.

"Of cour-" I start, and am immediately cut off by Brash saying "Help with-" at the same time. I turn around and wait for mother to elaborate.

"Him," she gestures at Brash, "not you."

"All three of us could go, no? In case-"

Mother dismisses my worry, "Pumpkin, this is where you're supposed to take the hint that I'd like to talk with the fine gentleman without your supervision."

Definitely not expecting that sort of forwardness, I blink and stare blankly for a few seconds. Brash mirrors my response to a fault. Quickly scratching my head, I answer, "Uhh, okay, hint taken."

She winks at me, says "Good!" excitedly and stands up. As she heads to the front door, Brash frantically looks from her to me and back to her, arms flailing in the air, asking what to do. I answer by jerking my head towards where mother stands repeatedly, eyes widened and lips pressed together. This quiet conversation continues until mother turns around; our arms drop and faces relax. Telling Brash to come along, he leaves me with a long, petrified look as they exits the house, him deeply uncertain of what questions she has in store.

  
Done with the dishes, I examine the room to see if there's anything else I can do. Not finding anything, I sit on a chair right next to Ari, who is still religiously going through the books, presumably looking for something.

"I can help, if you'd like," I tell her and grab one of the books she hasn't touched yet, opening it and reading its title. 'Tales of Old Alliran.' I've read this one at Orchid's. Not terribly gripping to be quite honest. 

"What are you looking for?" I ask.

"Yes," Ari answers without hesitation, crossing out nearly the entirety of her book's page. 

"Huh?" I lift my eyes from my book's table of contents. Ari doesn't answer, attention fully grasped by the two books she has laid open in front of herself. 

_Oh well,_ I think, closing the book and returning it where I took it from, _I suppose that's as much as I'm getting out of her until she's done. No reason to disturb her._ Without anything else to do, I lie my head on the table and close my tired eyes, waiting for the return of the two. 

***

It's later in the afternoon now, nearly evening. We decided to wait a few hours before heading into the inn, giving people time to get drunk and employees to get tired. Mother retired early to bed upstairs, while me and Brash took a short nap in the storage room to gather all the strength possible. Ari absolutely devoured hundreds of pages in the meantime. I cannot say how the hells she does it, but she's a more devout bookworm than I ever was.

"Best I do all the talking," I tell Brash as we adjust each other's cloaks and hoods, looking for the perfect angles to cover his scar and about half of my face. "Anyone hears **you** asking about Sybil might just get the wrong idea."

"Pfft," he lets air out of his mouth, "Yeah, yeah, whatever. It's your plan, I won't stand in the way."

Even though he can't see me frowning, I am anyway. "I.. Well, that's not what I meant. If something goes wrong I'll obviously appreciate any help you'd give me."

"Like I'd let you deny it anyway!" he grins. "Everything's going to be fine, sweetie. Nobody can take us two, I know that for sure," Brash reaches underneath my hook to hold my cheek. Hearing him indirectly compliment our teamwork honestly feels awesome.

  
"W-wait," Ari finally reacts to something after hours of reading and lifts her head to look at us, "Aren't I.. going with you?"

Grasping Brash's hand in mine and holding it still as I let it descend from my face to the height of our waists, I respond sternly, "No. I'm not taking any chances, so you're staying here."

The calm and collected reaction I expected from Ari comes in the form of a completely contrasted one. She jumps up from the chair and, while walking around the table, argues back, "But if something happens, wouldn't you want me to help, too? I'm more powerful than you think! Rivera taught-"

I swiftly raise my hand, empty palm facing her direction, and in a voice more forceful than intended tell her: "I said **no**." Interrupted, she stops talking, halting movement also. The determination she showed just a moment ago flutters away as her expressions soften into a sad frown. 

No more arguments. Content with her acceptance I reach out to her shoulders, pat her on them and offer a smile as consolation for the refusal. I'm not risking her safety for my personal quest. She's not a demonheart; any wound could end up being fatal.

"Stay safe," I say, "and guard the house while we're gone, okay?"

Ari nods down-heartedly. At least she understands there's no reason to quarrel about this. 

Knowing the house and mother will be safe for the night, me and Brash leave and aim our steps towards the Noble's district - towards Sybil's old inn.

***

"Now that I think of it," I ask Brash half-way there, "what did mother want?"

He quickly shrugs, "I don't know."

"What's that supposed to mean? Did you tune out during her no doubt thorough iquiry?" I jest.

"No," he answers simply. I can't help but sigh.

"Well.. what did she want, then?"

"I said it doesn't matter," he answers, tone growing deeper in frustration. _Is that all I'm going to get out of him? Good Gods._

"No," I continue poking the beehive, "you said you don't know. So, which is it?"

His hands fly up and he rubs his face with them as if to wake up. "Fuck's sake, can you just let it go?" he says almost in a snarl.

"Fine, whatever," I quickly retort, upset, "forget I asked." Whatever they talked about, or whatever she asked, must not have ended well. I should ask mother, not Brash, when we return. I doubt I can get it out of him at this rate.

***

Once inside the inn, we're greeted by a much less enthusiastic waitress than I remember Sybil being. Blonde. Short hair. Forced smile. Without further ado, she thoughtlessly guides us to one of the numerous vacant tables, assuring us she will return shortly. 

When seated on the bench of our table, I inspect our surroundings. The change of atmosphere since my last visit is astonishing. Barely anyone present. No loud bickering and laughter, just silent drinking and glooming. The whole place looks and feels absolutely run-down and so do the customers.

"What a shithole," Brash tries to speak silently, but even a muffled conversation can apparently be overheard; one of the waitresses gives us a quick, hurt look. Annoyed, Brash instead leans close to my left ear and asks, "What now? Does your plan involve getting someone shitfaced before asking? Because if so-" his hand hovers in front of me and moves from right to left, pointing to where the others customers sit, "-then most of these fucks have already done you a solid."

He's right. The bell has barely announced six in the afternoon and most of the sparse patrons are drowsing in their chairs, ready to nod off. The ones still holding on have the most woeful looks on their faces. _Well, I haven't come here for the customers anyway. I'm here to try and find a waitress called Lily._

I recall Sybil calling out to her during our first meeting. Investigating the employees, she's nowhere to be seen. Not that I ever got a close look. All I remember her as is.. long, dark hair and a full figure.

  
The blonde waitress returns.

"Ready to order?"

 _Shit. I haven't even gone through the menu yet._ Quickly opening it, I find that it's not changed whatsoever. All of the suggestive names for dishes are still present. I don't waste her time: "Two sevens and two pints," I say, ordering the same thing Sybil got for us before.

The waitress grimaces, nods and leaves again.

"The hells did you just order?" Brash asks outloud, glaring at the menu pamplet with overwhelming confusion. I suppose the name 'Sister's Cloister' doesn't inspire much confidence. Or imagination as to what it even is.

"Don't worry, it's perfect for a carnivore of your calibre," I answer light-heartedly.

Throwing the folded pamplet back onto the table, he rests his back on the wall behind us and closes his eyes, waiting for the next, more eventful stage of the play. Same here, honestly, but I won't just rest on my butt, waiting for something to happen.

"I'll be right back," I whisper and begin shuffling sideways on the bench. Brash quickly grabs my wrist, throwing me an inquisitive look. I pat the hand that has me in a hold, reassuring Brash with a look of my own. He lets go, watching me carefully.

  
Now up, I confidently walk towards the blonde waitress waiting by a counter for our order. I tap her shoulder. Startled by my silent approach, she shudders but quickly says: "Y-yes? I'm sorry, your order isn't ready yet.. miss."

"I did not mean to ask about that," I speak in a giddy tone, "Rather, I was wondering, could you call for Lily? We're supposed to meet her here and discuss business."

Whatever was positive in her mood plummets swiftly. There's no time to wonder about what the issue is. She staggers but immediately runs around me to push her way out of the door. As silent as the room seemed before, now it's wholeheartedly dead.

_Okay then. Nobody saw that._

I look around and see everyone staring. 

_Fuck._

  
Standing frozen in front of the bar, I turn my head to the bartender and blurt out, "What was that about?"

He stares me down with empty eyes and answers, "Lily was her sister. The one who.."

I cringe. 'The one who-' _..Oh wait. Shit._ Jaw dropped, I instantly realise what he's saying. Lily. Lily is the one who died here. She's the one who was murdered. 

"Why would you tell Jade something like that?" the bartender continues bitterly, placing a name to the waitress's face. "Everyone knows what happened to Lily, and here you are anyway-" his tone progressively getting rougher, "-hurting her for no reason other than-"

Not desiring any conclusions to be drawn, I cut him off and try to persuade him that I meant no harm, "I didn't know, I swear it. We-" I spin around and point to Brash, who's as ready to cut everyone down as ever, "-come from El'Shei and were told to arrive on this specific day, many months ago. A bargain was struck with Sybil and Lily was supposed to oversee it during Sybil's absence."

The bartender continues staring me down, but nods in acknowledgement. "Then I suppose whatever deal you had is off."

"Clearly," I murmur, hoping he wouldn't hear me. Everyone hears me. I flash a prompt smile, wide-eyed. "Could you tell us where we may find Sybil, then? Our bargain was of a..personal nature."

Drawing his own conclusion, the bartender makes a disgusted face. _Whatever is he thinking of, that perverted wreck?_ Easing on the disgust, he thinks, pauses and slyly asks: "What's this information worth to you?"

 _Bastard._ I reach for my barely-filled coin pouch and shake it in my hand, "Ten pieces," I offer about half of what I possess, knowing he will likely request a bit more. _Ten fucking gold. That's enough to buy us three dinners just like the one ordered._

His eyes light up in a furtive, shallow way. He snuffs the light out. "Forty."

I burst out laughing. Amused, for sure, but not in a good way. _What an absolute fucking weasel, this piece of-_

"The lady said **ten** ," Brash says from right behind me, making my heart jump in alarm. He stabs his sword into the bar counter with a powerful pierce. Numerous gasps flutter around at the sound. "A generous offer for a worthless shit like yourself." I can hear the menace and peril pouring inbetween words. "So you better accept it before you pay for the insult with your fucking head."

  
However admirable the bartender's attempt at bartering was, he could never have competed with that. Visibly swallowing, he nods his head repeatedly, scared for his life. "Ten, ten! Ten is what I meant!" he cries, hands up in defense.

I grin, nothing short of impressed by Brash's problem-solving ability, and throw the bartender his ten gold. As the pieces hit the area around him, he bends down, gathering them from the ground, spilling all he knows. "T-the last time I s-spoke to Sybil, she said she was g-going to Ravage to start her own inn."

I drop the grin and ask, "Wasn't this her inn?"

He gets up, pockets the gold and shakes his head, "N-No, it was Lily's. Now it's Jade's. Lily named it after Sybil because of all she did for her. They were like family."

 _Family._ I unintentionally gag and roll my eyes at that word in association with Sybil. The bartender obviously has no idea what to think anymore, so he just waits for more orders. I smile again, thank him for the information and remind him about our order. He panics and runs into the kitchen, yelling at the cooks as we walk back to the table.

  
"Thanks," I say quietly, holding back a chuckle. "Nearly forgot how terrifying you can be."

"Sure looked like you needed help, rallying the entire inn to lynch us both," he speaks in normal volume, definitely calmer than minutes ago. "Whatever, it's fine. What now, though? Aren't we ready to go? Do we just sit around, drink and eat?"

 _Hmm.._ "Well," I begin, acting demure, "maybe this was all just a complex plot to get you to come with me on a date?"

Brash immediately looks at me with this.. odd, piercing look.. and after staying petrified for a moment, asks: "Is it?"

"I think we're past the point where we'd need a lonesome rendezvous, but.. wouldn't it be a nice change of pace? Having some time alone?" 

I continue with a smile.

The food and drinks arrive.

He sneers in his own dismissive but appreciative way, and I know that the idea of it all isn't wasted on him.

***

Rain. Good Gods, so much rain. The previously heavy clouds have broken, lavishing Feline with water. The moment we exit the inn our cloaks soak. I can feel the drops of water hitting my hood, and just seconds later feel them on my scalp. The amount of noise the drops make when colliding with the ground is unimaginable. I can't recall a fiercer rainstorm.

We stand in front of the inn for a while, observing the phenomenon. Raindrops slide down my cheeks from the top of my head. My hair is totally soaked. When I wipe some of the water off my face, I instantly notice its colour. Black. The dye won't survive tonight.

I walk a few steps forward, take the hood off and lean my head back, facing the sky with closed eyes.

"What are you doing?" Brash asks hurriedly, closing the distance. "Someone might see you." I can feel him taking hold of my hood, trying to make sense of it as it hugs my back all crumpled.

I spin around on a heel. The hood escapes his hands. We come face to face again.

"It's too dark for anyone to tell who we are," I say matter-of-factly. All of the lampposts' fires have been doused by the rain. The Sun has long set. "And nobody can hear anything through all this raucous rain!" I gradually increase the volume of my voice, nearly yelling the last few words.

Brash dons a grim, serious expression and immediately shoots his hands towards my mouth, no doubt trying to shut me up. I laugh while speedily dodging his attempt with a twirl, ending up outside his reach, still cackling.

  
He starts off genuinely confused, maybe concerned by the unpredictability of my sanity, but eventually turns this uncertainty into a wide, amused grin. "What's got you so chipper all of a sudden, kitty girl?" he asks, louder and livelier.

Brash steps in my direction, trying to reach my waist this time. I skip backwards, avoiding his reach again with a provoking and self-assured fleer.

"Well! I thought the evening was rather successful," I say in a braggy tone as we continue the game of cat and mouse in the empty street. Running around soaking wet from cold rain might not be the best of ideas, but I'm finally having some fun. "I got to know all I wanted and had an overall 'okay' time!"

He sneers at my deriding the night. "Oh, 'okay', was it? You just **wait** until I get you. I'm.." Brash tries to grab me again, I spin underneath his arm and out of his reach again. "..not done with you yet tonight."

"Oooh? Reeeally?" I hum, puckish. I spread my arms wide to the sides and twirl around, taunting Brash. He, of course, can't resist and launches himself towards me with surprising speed, but still can't hope to catch me. 

  
"And how long will that take?"

Brash tries again, unsuccessful.

"Days?"

Again.

"Weeks?"

Again. His eyes growing fierier by the second.

"Months?"

And again. As annoying as I'm being, he doesn't look upset.

"Maybe ye-" I begin the next taunt, but while avoiding another of his reaches, I step badly at too great a speed on a wet, slippery stone and fall on my back with a surprised "-aAGH!"

  
_Ouch, my.. head. And back. And butt._

  
Seeing as there is no need to rush anymore, Brash's confident, victorious steps slowly guide him to where I lie, inadvertently embarrassed and possibly concussed by the sheer vastness of my idiocy. Rain pours down onto my face like mockery sent directly from the Gods.

Announcing his arrival by a laugh, Brash takes the last step necessary and loudly sighs. "Just what am I going to do with you.." He looks me over, sprawled on the ground and drenched from head to toe. Offering me his open palm to help me get back on my feet, I accept without hesitation, even if I feel absolutely embarrassed. 

  
"You know, it's not very ladylike to be this difficult on a 'first date'," he smirks ardently, taking the time to conjoin messy strands of my hair and brushing them away from my face to behind my ears and back.

I grimace sarcastically and capitalise on what he just said, parodying the image I've got painted in my mind.

"Ah, good Sir!" I feign offense, dramatically placing an open palm over my brow, as if about to faint. "You do me great dishonour by conjecturing such behaviour, portraying **me** as the malefactor," I continue theatrically, hyperbolic to the bone. 

Brash stares into my eyes, not reacting to the show I'm putting on. His hands are rested just below my ears, not holding fast but rather feeling my skin. A smile makes a triumphant return to my lips.

"Certainly a fraudulent, mayhaps too fanciful a suggestion for the occasion of our nay-too-felicitous rendezvous amidst this perpetu-"

Aand.. He's done with the play.

Lights.   
Curtains.   
Applause.

Everything comes pouring down on me in a single moment, facilitated by an albeit sudden but coveted kiss. _Oh.. Wow.. What was I doing just now?_ Brash provides the only source of warmth in this adversity. Adversity. Adversity? The rainstorm, right. I don't even feel it anymore; mind swept from objectivity towards shameless lascivity, fully supported by two pairs of seeking arms. Seeking, finding, and seeking some more.

Mine make their way to his neck and eventually hair also. I realise only now that his hood is taken off as well. I must have not seen him removing it in my lunacy. Running my fingers through his hair elicits a smile I can't see but can feel on his lips. The hair is so short compared to before. Shorter but.. nice. Soft. I might actually prefer it.

  
Flash. Thunder. 

Even though near-drowned by the sound of the strident weather, we hear a clear shout from somewhere on the street.   
  


  
"Bright?"

  
That's more than enough to interrupt us and bring the enjoyment of the night to an all-time low. Withdrawing from each other, we scan the area carefully, looking for the person who addressed me. Brash finds them first, groaning, "Oh good fucking Gods, not **you** again."

I swiftly turn to where he's facing and.. "Wh- Jasper?!" I gasp out in disbelief. _He's alright. He's alive!_ I start laughing and approach him, saying, "Thank the Gods you're alright! I feared you may-"

I freeze.

"D-Don't come any closer-" Jasper stutters, his sword pointed at me, "-D-demon!" There's definite terror behind his eyes and in his voice.

Frowning at first, I relax my expression and smile. "What are you talking about?" I take a step forward, "Jasper, I won't hurt you. You know that, right?"

Well, whatever I just said inspired him to take a more robust stance. Threatening me with more vigor, Jasper scowls, "I believed you were innocent. You said they unrightfully imprisoned you for Orchid's murder. Yet you failed to mention that you were executed for it!"

 _Shit._ My smile drops and I realise just how grave an abyss has grown between us since we last saw each other. He honestly believes I killed Orchid just because of my demonic nature.

  
"Put the fucking sword down and run before I make you regret this," Brash stands beside me again, "that's an order."

The sword changes targets and is aimed at Brash, more convincingly than when aimed at me. "An order? From you?" Jasper scoffs unusually confidently, "As if you have any ground to stand on."

"I'm a knight of-"

"Not anymore! Or do you not keep up with the latest news?" Jasper derides angrily. I can see fears realised in Brash's eyes. Jasper goes on, "Wearing that armor doesn't make you a knight. As far as ranks go, I'm actually higher than you now. Finally, I can say this without feeling terrible about it." He takes a deep breath and shouts: " **Fuck. You.** "

 _What-_ My jaw drops as far as it's allowed, while Brash bursts out laughing. "'Fuck me'? Boy, you've really grown some balls if you think some title difference will stop me from smashing your face into a fucking wall," he threatens both with words but also by reaching for his sword. I lay my hand on his shoulder and try to appeal to him, pleading to not kill Jasper.

Brash pulls the sword out but doesn't advance. I can't fault him for wanting to be ready, even though I can hardly imagine Jasper ever posing an issue. To either of us. If he came forward, I could easily- _.. What the fuck, Bright. Stop thinking like that._

"Jasper, you don't know even the half of what's going on in Feline," I talk through the growing storm. The emptiness of the street doesn't calm me anymore. The darkness of the night isn't as comforting as before. "If you just listen-"

"Shut up!" he snaps, swinging the sword through the air hysterically. "I spent three weeks dealing with the truth! You.. broke my heart," Jasper wipes his face. From the rain? Not likely. "And when Mark told me what you are, you broke my heart again!"

With a desperate expression, I try again, "J-Jasper, just let me-"

"No," he's calming down, regaining composure at the price of sanity, "Your demonic side took over. You snapped and killed Orchid. You killed Garrosh and fed on his flesh." I grimace, thinking _'What the fuck?',_ as he continues, "You led me on. You abandoned me and Tounnes thinking we won't make it back." Jasper straigthens his back. "There's no other option than Suntown for you."

I want to argue back and attempt to make things clear, but apparently, we're no longer alone.

  
"Jasper, here you are! Did you find anything worthwhile?" a soldier approaches Jasper with a swift and ostentatious step, not having looked in our direction yet.

Jasper nods towards us, "Two wanted criminals, Sir."

The soldier turns to where he gestures. We undergo a staring contest of several long seconds. We are at a disadvantage; the soldier's face isn't visible through the helmet. He breaks the contest by bursting into genuine laughter.

The man takes his helmet off and holds it between his left arm and chest. Brash exhales a lungful when he recognises the man. "I swear to fucking Gods, will these cunts ever stop showing up? It's like they can fucking smell you or something."

Of course it's none other than Feline's current favoured son, Mark. Now that he's not wearing his helmet anymore, I can see just how twisted his expressions are. I don't know this person anymore. He's not at all who he used to be, he even grew his hair out a little.  
  


"Oh, I'm sorry," Mark says sarcastically, "Did I interrupt your reunion?" Looking from Jasper to Brash, Mark finally meets my eyes. "Hello there, sweetie." Last time we spoke he apologised for everything he did, seeming honestly contrite. His current glare erases all illusions. Whatever is going on changed him to the core.

"Don't fucking talk to me you animal," I bark, no expense saved on anger. "I know what you do to Flora. And what you do to your subordinates like the one from last night."

"See, that's exactly why Flora looks the way she does!" he insists, voice unserious. "I see your.." he chuckles, "..'knight' has something to learn from **me** for a change, in **that** regard. But, forget that!" He looks towards Brash with a disturbingly deep look. "I finally understand what you were saying before, you know? What you said in the camp?"

Brash cringes painfully, "The fuck are you talking about, you little shit?"

Mark grins, "About nobody giving a fuck about these people," he points all around at the buildings and even at Jasper, who's caught in the middle of something he doesn't understand whatsoever. "We could burn this town to the ground and nobody would bat an eye. They're all worthless."

"Oh, you're clearly the pinnacle of a person who's priceless," I jump in. "You fucking psycho."

Mark doesn't spare me a single glance. He looks totally entranced by whatever idea he's putting to words. "I thought you were mad, wicked and corrupt, but.. no. I understand. You were right all along. We can only rely on yourselves. Others just bring us down," Mark keeps nodding, believing every single word firmly. "I really admire you for that."

  
If only the rain wasn't making so much noise. The silence we'd experience.. Brash looks totally dumbfounded. Oh, the variety of emotion he swaps through. He ends on a perturbed glare as he finally replies. "You don't know the first thing about me, kid. Don't try to pin your bullshit on me. It's not my fault you've got to compensate for being pathetic."

Somewhat disappointed, Mark shrugs. "Oh well. It's really a shame you're.. what you are. I'd have loved to learn more from you, but!" he pats Jasper on the back harshly, "It seems you two are.. under arrest?" and cackles in Jaspers face before commanding him: "Go! Arrest them! That's an order!"

"Sure, lets listen to the guy who beats his wife for pleasure," I stare daggers at Mark and then at Jasper, "Great choice of company, by the way."

Having lost a lot of composure during our three's exchange, Jasper nods at Mark shakily and, with a drawn sword, approaches us, tripping over his own feet. 

Brash chuckles and, saying 'Finally', steps in the direction of Jasper, only for me to stop him. 

  
"Please, Brash, don't."

"We've already had this talk before, sweetheart. If he wants to die so badly, I won't stop him."

"I get it, but.." I glance at the ever-approaching Jasper. He's troubled. Very. "..let me do it - I'll get him to understand. I'll convince him."

"And if you can't? Are you willing to kill?"

I swallow a huge lump in my throat and deadly serious say, "I'll convince him."

  
Jasper arrives. "By order of Lord Second of Feline, Lord Mace of Scarcewall, and by the law of Princess Adrianne of Suntown and the whole of Shermyr, I command you to surrender and come with me without protest, so the Gods may yet show you mercy in the afterlife," he recites.

I quickly look at Brash again. Shaking his head and rolling his eyes at the recitation, he takes a few steps back, giving me the space to do whatever I want.

"We're not surrendering, Jasper. And you shouldn't either. Don't let them mess with your head. Make up your own mind."

Not convinced. His sword is dangerously close to my neck. "Kneel and live longer, Bright. Please."

"I won't. You know that," I pull my own weapons out. "You should also know you won't defeat me. You're risking your life for no reason other than that you were ordered to. Mark can come arrest us himself, can't he?"

Jasper loses some of the shakiness, returning to his previous hate-filled composure. With no care for me or even himself, he tries to strike me down. He, of course, can't. 

"You're right, I'm a demonheart. Orchid turned me without me knowing! She died giving birth to a demonspawn!"

Jasper certainly didn't like that assertion. He swings for my head but can't score a hit. 

"They executed me, and when I came back to life Second and Mace had me released to sacrifice me to Rivera. To stop the attacks."

Whatever he tries misses. I'm starting to doubt he's going to listen, even if he wanted to. I swipe his feet to get him into a steady position for a few moments.

"Mark facilitated that offer. Rivera had me tortured for two weeks. She'd have taken my heart and turned into a demonheart herself. Just imagine what shit she'd unleash onto the kingdom; a witch supported by her own demonic powers!"

Jasper gets up and says, "I don't care! It doesn't matter, you're a threat to everyone.. as much as she is!" before attacking me again.

"She won't be ever again! How do you think the attacks stopped? I killed her! I stopped her from butchering the entire Southern Alliance. I was promised freedom after Rivera's death by ours-fucking-truly, Sir Mark, but instead we're here!"

  
Jasper finally takes a pause and stands still, mulling what I just said over in his head.

".. **You** killed her?"

I nod, "Rivera won't hurt anyone again. I understand it doesn't affect my nature, but how is that my fault? I can't change it. Must I die for that when I've never hurt anyone who wasn't threatening me or causing pain?"

For the first time the whole encounter, Jasper takes my words for what they are and thinks about them. I believe demonhearts - together with witches and cultists - shouldn't be gathered just because Adrianne declared us dangerous. I'm sure there are many others who don't mean harm, unlike the Serpents. Bunching us all into the same pile doesn't feel fair.

Jasper lowers his sword and stares at the ground, mind no doubt full with thoughts. I breathe a sigh of relief and step closer, trying to get him into a hug. The situation must feel incredibly confusing and distressing.

"I would never hurt you, Jasper," I tell him calmly, approaching with open arms. "You don't need to be scared-"

  
He isn't. At least not as much as I thought. 

His sword rises without me noticing and ends up going through my exposed side - the armor doesn't cover the sides very well. I shriek more in surprise than pain, even though both are peaking. Jasper takes the blade out. I shriek again, but know the healing will begin shortly.

Forcing my eyes to stay open, I see Brash charging at Jasper, shouting something I can't hear through the rain. I shout: "No, don't!" Of course he doesn't stop, so I take control of his cloak and pull it backwards. It doesn't have nearly as strong an effect as I hoped, but he stops anyway. Twisting his face in a wave of rage, he spins around, no doubt cursing his mind off at my idiocy. I think I can hear Mark's voice also, but Jasper's drowns it out.

"The shoe's on the other foot now.." Jasper says, sobbing, while I grunt through the pain, still believing there's hope. He glances at the wound he's caused me. Seeing all the blood pouring out terrifies him. Meeting my aching eyes with his eyes full of regret, Jasper says, "I.. I'm.. Gods, I'm so sorry, Bright!" He takes a step back and investivates his hands. I reach towards my wound. A horrifying amount of blood, but the wound is closing. The rain helps clean my armor.

"I was so.. upset," he speaks at his hands, "Felt totally blindsided by you; the only person I.. ever-" His tongue can't find the words to finish his sentence. His tongue won't finish any more sentences. It's no longer inside his head; a swift strike of a bastard sword decapitates him right in front of me. Jasper's body falls, crumbling down helplessly. 

  
My heart stops beating and crawls into my throat, trying to escape.

"You weren't supposed to defeat her!" Mark deplores, sheathing his bloodied sword. "Useless!"

Jasper's body lies on the ground in front of me. His head only a few feet further. Another person dying because of their associating with me. A good person, not worthy of a pointless death.

There's no stopping Brash now; he's done listening to my directions - not that I'm giving any, just emptily staring at the corpse. He confidently walks towards Mark, seeing his lack of defense as an open invitation.

"I'm fucking done, tonight's been too long already," Brash twists the sword in his hand, "Tell your Three shitty fucking Gods I said 'Hi', will you?"

"Adorable," Mark laughs, watching Brash. I can feel his eyes on me now. Piercing my aura with his glare. "Are you coming to avenge your gir-"

  
Hop.

Skip.

Jump.

  
Within a blink of an eye, I pummel Mark onto the ground by the sheer force of my speed. One of my daggers immediately shuts him up, skewering his skull from underneath the jaw upto his palate. There's no remorse in his eyes. There's no guilt over what I'm doing in mine either.

Pulling the dagger out, I cut the straps on the side of his breastplate, throw it aside and furiously stab him in the stomach, lungs, heart, wherever I feel like it. His body is long not moving. I can't see the wounds through his shirt, only the massive pools of blood. I'm overwhelmed by a kind of rage I haven't felt since killing Rivera.

There's no stopping it, I can't make myself stop. I can't stop picturing the sword severing Jasper's...

"Bright, stop," Brash takes me by my arms and pulls me away from the bloody corpse. I can't contest with his strength, but try anyway. One death doesn't seem enough. I struggle but am not powerful enough, and Brash ends up dragging me upwards, restraining me against his chest.

  
"Don't think about it."

_I can't not to._

"Breathe."

_Nothing seems more difficult._

"The patrols will begin soon."

_Let them come._

Brash pushes me away slightly, shakes my shoulders and bellows: "Bright! Snap out of it! We have to go!"

  
Do we?

We do, don't we.

They're both dead. 

We can't stay any longer.

Curfew.

Patrols.

Back to business.

Losing more people.

Just another day.

A day like every other.

  
Some of my sense returns. The rainstorm is subsiding. My fingers are trembling. From the cold? Maybe. No. Not really. 

I open my palms and aim them behind my back. A mushy sound. The weapons arrive, freshly released from Mark's corpse. I can't bear to turn around and look at it. Or look to the side and see Jasper. I sheath the weapons. They had an eventful night. Brash examines my expression thoroughly.

Taking my hand firmly into his, we start running away from the scene. 

  
"Be careful not to slip again."

  
If something like this had happened before Rivera, I'd lose my mind for certain. But now? Once again faced with death, it's become just another aspect of life. Wherever we go, regardless of who we meet or see, death rears its ugly head. The one saving grace of this situation is that I **know** I tried my best. 

Mark deserved this fate. Since a long time ago.

  
"I've got it under control."

  
We rush to avoid patrols, so we make it back quickly. Ari's still buried in the books, looking awfully exhausted. She nearly screams when she sees the blood all over my neck and face. The rain didn't wash it off. We familiarise her with the situation as we pack our belongings, ready to once again leave.

Ari's mortified by the sheer fact that it's been minutes since I brutally murdered my ex-fiancé on the street after he decapitated the only friend I had left since childhood. That's a lot to take in at once. If there's anything I'm glad about at all, it's the decision to leave Ari behind for the night.

She understands there's no time. We're almost ready to leave. No time to say final goodbyes to mother. I take the journal I've not written into for weeks out of my bag, tear a page out and leave her a note.

'Had to go. Stay safe. I love you.'

  
When we arrive at the outskirts of Feline, we can already hear the bell being rang. An alarm. We only barely made it out. The stable master is thankfully still asleep. We've got the keys to our horses' boxes inside his barn.

"Are you really alright?" Ari asks me as we get up on our horses - she on hers, me and Brash on ours.

I nod and answer dispassionately, "Of course."

"Are you-"

"Yes, I'm sure. There are.. better things to focus on right now," I reply, not intending to sound hostile but ending up that way anyway.

Ari says: "O-oh, okay. Sorry," and drops it. Brash doesn't talk about it at all. There's always time for that later, I suppose. I'm just glad I've got some space to think on the road.

  
Fuck it.

Ravage, then.

Something's telling me it will go about as smoothly there as with our stop at Feline.  
  



End file.
